


To Be Loved and To Be In Love

by RealName



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Harry, Boys In Love, First Dates AU, Fluff, Fred Sirieix - Freeform, Humor, Insecure Louis, Jealous Louis, Lack of Communication, Lawyer Harry, Loss of Trust, M/M, Married at a young age, Post Divorce, Reality TV, learning to love again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealName/pseuds/RealName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Dates AU. Louis Tomlinson is a thirty-year-old divorcee whose friends have signed him up for the Channel 4 show First Dates. Harry Styles is a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer who has never been in a long-term relationship. They are filmed going on their first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Loved and To Be In Love

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to submit this for a prompt but I just loved the idea so much that I had to write it myself, just for fun. For anybody who has never seen First Dates, it's a television show in the UK where people are set up on blind dates and are filmed throughout their first date. It's such a nice, heart-warming show and I couldn't stop imagining what it would be like if Harry and Louis were set up on it. I took some liberties on the whole filming/layout of the show, because I have no idea how a show like this is produced and edited, so I had to improvise. Enjoy!
> 
> (Polish Translation here: http://justbemytommo.tumblr.com/post/135330169561/to-be-loved-and-to-be-in-love . Thank you so much for taking the time to do this :)

To be Loved and to be in Love

-*-

Louis Tomlinson was nervous.

It's not something that happened often, like seeing a shooting star or getting the flavour you want in a bag of _Revels_ , yet the sensation in his stomach was unmistakable.

Louis thought when he'd married Darren that he would never have to worry about first date nerves ever again, but those dreams had been unceremoniously dashed when he'd walked in on his husband of three years cheating on him with a co-worker. Louis had stopped by Darren's office one day to drop off some files that he had left at home, only to walk in on him receiving a taste of afternoon delight in the form of a messy blow job. To add insult to injury, a framed picture of Louis had overlooked the proceedings from its place on Darren's desk, smiling down at the bobbing head of Nigel from accounts. Real Life Louis, on the other hand, had thrown the files at his husband's head and demanded a separation there and then.

Three months later after that fateful encounter, Louis was single for the first time in ten years and he had no idea what to do with himself.

At first Louis had buried himself in work, insisting to his worried friends, Zayn and Liam, that he was fine. He _liked_ being single, in fact. He'd spent so long being part of a couple that he'd lost himself somewhere along the way, and it was fun being _Just Louis_ for once. That is, until his thirtieth birthday, when he'd gotten drunk and performed a rather pathetic rendition of _All by Myself_ to an audience of all his married friends. That's when Liam and Zayn had taken it upon themselves to sign him up for _First Dates_ on the Channel 4 website.

Louis looked around the tables at all the other couples, some of whom were already enjoying their meals, while Louis nervously waited for his date's arrival. He tapped his fingers on the table, which was clad in white linen, then fidgeted with the silverware for a moment before taking a sip of white wine. Louis wasn't usually a wine person, but he wanted to convey an aura of sophistication to his potential date, whoever he may be. Plus, it's all he ever drank when he was with Darren.

A camera hovered close to his face as he drank, reminding him that this was a television show. Reality entertainment. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face at the thought of who the nameless, faceless individuals in charge of this programme might have set him up with. What if it was a maniac? Someone completely outrageous who Louis would hate? After all, that's the whole point of reality shows, isn't it? The shock value. Making people uncomfortable for the pleasure of the audience at home. Oh God, what on earth had he gotten himself into? Why did he let Liam and Zayn talk him into this?

“Another drink, Sir?”

A waiter smiled down at Louis. Young, blonde hair, tan. Exactly Louis' type. Well, _was_ Louis' type, before the divorce. Louis smiled tightly and shook his head, crinkles sprouting at the corners of his eyes.

“No, thanks mate. Don't want to be off my face when my date gets here. Wouldn't look too good now, would it?”

The waiter laughed and shook his head, but said nothing. In the past, Louis would have been all over him. Teasing him. Making him laugh more. Sure, the guy might've been straight, but then again he might not have been and Louis always enjoyed a challenge. That was Past Louis, though. Present Louis, on the other hand, just smiled and let him leave.

Louis waited for another five minutes before he started wondering whether or not he'd been stood up. The smell of gourmet cuisine filled his nostrils and made his stomach growl. He'd ran to the bus straight after work and hadn't had time to grab a snack on the way. Where the Hell was his date?

Louis was starting to get angry now, eyebrows furrowed as he pulled his slimline phone from the pocket of his black blazer.

One missed message from Zayn.

_How's it going, lad? Channel 4 offered you your own show yet?_

Louis' fingers flew across the touchscreen.

 _Only a matter of time. They'll need to find_ some _way of compensating me for setting me up with a no-show!_

It only took a moment for Zayn's response.

_What do you mean??_

Louis let out a huff and shook his head as he replied.

_My date is a no-show! I've been sitting here like bloody Bridget Jones for twenty minutes and he still hasn't arrived. I'm about ready to kick off on this guy and I haven't even met him yet._

Zayn.

_He's probably just running late. Give him a chance._

Louis snorted and peered over towards the glass entrance. Nothing.

_I don't want to._

A few moments passed before Zayn responded again, but when he did, Louis' breath caught in his throat.

_I know what you're doing. Stop preparing yourself for disappointment before you've even met him. Chill, man!_

Louis rolled his eyes and stuck his phone back into his pocket. He really hated how well Zayn knew him. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh.

Zayn was right. He needed to chill.

Of course, it was in the middle of this moment of Zen that Louis' date decided to show up.

“Sir, your date has arrived.”

Louis' heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes and was immediately confronted by a camera in his face. He blinked several times, eyes adjusting, then quickly stood to his feet. The Maître D of the restaurant, Fred Sirieix, hovered beside the table, staring down at Louis with low-lidded eyes and a warm smile. Fred gestured towards the man beside him and it was only then that Louis allowed himself to look at his date.

The man standing in front of him was not what he had been expecting. Zayn and Liam had stated in Louis' application that he preferred blondes, not brunettes. Straight hair, not curly. Muscular body types, not lean and lithe. Brown eyes, not green. This man was the exact opposite of Louis' type.

And yet...

Louis shook himself from his internal monologue as his date smiled and reached out a hand to greet him, leaning forward to place a kiss on each of Louis' cheeks.

“I'm so sorry I'm late,” Curly said, cheeks rouged from the bitter cold of outside, brow furrowed with genuine remorse. “I got caught up in work. I hope you weren't waiting too long.”

Louis stepped back and waved a dismissive hand in the air, shaking his head. He was suddenly aware of his own height in comparison to this man's, who seemed to tower above him, tailored clothes hanging off his lean frame like they were crafted especially for him. Louis tore his eyes away and sat down.

“No bother mate, I wasn't waiting long,” Louis lied, watching as his date feathered his long fingers back through wind swept curls and sat down, movements effortlessly graceful. “I don't think I caught your name, sorry?”

“That's because I never told you it,” Green Eyes grinned, dimples popping up like bullet holes.

Louis raised an eyebrow, unable to help the smirk that graced his features. _Cheeky_.

“Fine,” Louis shrugged. If this guy wanted sass, Louis could deliver. “I'll just call you Curly, then.”

Curly laughed, then covered his mouth with his hand, schooling his expression into something a little more serious. If it weren't for the lines that skirted around the corners of his large, pink lips, Louis would have guessed Dimples to be in his mid-twenties. Their prominence told him that he was probably closer to Louis' age, though.

“Curly, huh?”

Louis nodded and took a sip of his wine, only looking up when the blonde waiter came over to take his date's drink order.

“Mojito, please.”

Louis took note of the fact that Curly's eyes hadn't hovered over the hot waiter. A coil of tension eased in his chest at the knowledge. When the waiter left to retrieve the order, Louis looked over to find Green Eyes focused intensely on him.

“What?” Louis asked, shuffling under the attention. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, just wondering what I should call _you_ ,” Curly grinned, finger poised to his chin in thoughtfulness, “since I've been dubbed 'Curly' for the remainder of this evening.”

“Take your pick, I've been called every name under the sun,” Louis said, a mischievous smile crossing his sharp features.

Curly laughed once again, bright and bold. Louis' chest surged. He'd forgotten how good it felt to make someone laugh. To make a _date_ laugh. Jesus, Louis was on a date. He felt a sudden rush of adrenaline rattle in his bones. He tried to channel his inner twenty-year-old self. What would Past Louis do? The Louis that had existed before he'd married Darren and became _LouisandDarren_.

“You look like a Tim to me,” Harry said, seriously.

Louis blinked several times before throwing back his head in laughter, raising his eyebrows.

“ _Tim_? Why Tim?”

“I don't know,” Curly shrugged, voice low and deep, rumbling in his chest. “You have nice blue eyes. Kind eyes.”

“I have nice eyes so you automatically think my name is Tim? Why? Do all Tim's have nice eyes?”

“All the ones I've met,” Curly nodded, sagely.

“Fuck me,” Louis muttered, rolling his 'nice' eyes and taking another drink of wine. He had a feeling he'd be drinking a lot this evening. _Who the Hell's in charge of the match-making for this programme_?

“A bit early in the date for a proposition like that, don't you think?”

Louis' eyes widened as he glanced at his date, who's lips were quirked up in a small, mischievous smile. Unfortunately, Louis had no chance to respond because the blonde waiter was back with Curly's drink on a silver tray. The waiter held the stem of the glass and placed it in front of Curly, who smiled in thanks and began idly stirring the mint leaves with a stirring stick.

Louis cleared his throat. “Maybe we should start over.”

Curly's mouth twitched up, only one dimple appearing this time. “OK.”

Louis held out his hand and smiled exaggeratedly, as if this was their first greeting. “Hi, my name is Louis Tomlinson, pleasure to meet you. What's your name?”

The overly pleasant greeting caused his date to chuckle, holding out his own hand, which was covered in rings. When Louis felt Curly's fingers curl around his, squeezing gently, he tried to ignore the little zip of electricity that rolled up his arm.

“Harry Styles,” Curly replied, licking his lips, “and the pleasure's all mine, _Louis_.”

The way Louis' name fell from Harry's lips made Louis' mouth go dry.

A camera passed by their table at that moment, stealing shots of them as they sipped on their drinks and made light conversation. The somewhat overt flirtation began to cool a bit as they got caught up in small talk, learning about each others jobs and hobbies. Harry worked for a legal firm, Louis learned, and enjoyed photography in his spare time.

When they'd exhausted the topic of work, they both fell into silence. Louis was slightly concerned that he was boring his date. He had never been accused of being boring before, but the way Harry's eyes frowned as he intensely inspected the silverware was starting to unnerve Louis a little. It was a welcome relief when the waiter came to take their order.

Louis ordered the swordfish and Harry ordered the steak. When the waiter left, Louis made it his mission to break the tension.

“So, _Harry_ , what made you decide to sign up for this programme?” Louis asked, threading his fingers together. “Sorry if I sound rude, but you seem fairly normal. Good looking. What gives?”

Harry chuckled, as though silently saying that Louis _was_ being rude, but that he found it amusing rather than off-putting.

“My friend Niall actually signed me up for it. Thought I needed the help, I guess,” Harry smiled, a hint of self-deprecation, though it was clear by his tone that that was not the real reason. Anyone could tell from looking at Harry that he did not need help getting a date. So clear was this, in fact, that Louis couldn't help but huff out a laugh.

“Unlikely.”

Harry smiled, a light pink coloring his prominent cheekbones.

“Well, what about you?” he asked, throwing the question back at Louis. “Why did you sign up for this?”

“Same reason as you, actually. Interfering friends. Bloody nuisance, they are,” Louis grinned, “though I guess I can't be too hard on them. They may be interfering but their hearts are in the right place.”

Louis felt a sudden surge of affection at the memory of Liam and Zayn, bickering over the glow of a laptop screen as they'd butted heads over Louis' application. Zayn had insisted Louis' body type was 'Athletic', whilst Liam had been adamant it was 'Curvy'. Louis, on the other hand, had been more concerned about his height. _Make sure you say I'm five-foot-nine_! Still, when it came to filling out Louis' ' _Tell us a Little Bit About Yourself_ ' section, Louis had been overwhelmed by the short little paragraph they'd written about him. It may have only been 250 words, but Louis was not afraid to admit that he'd welled up a little upon reading it.

“I know what you mean. Ever since we were kids, Niall has been putting me up for these _mini adventures_ ,” Harry curves his middle and index fingers around the words, bracketing them in quotation marks, “I was only _a little_ surprised when I got a voicemail message on my phone from a lady at Channel 4 saying my application had been accepted for this show, which says a lot, considering Niall never even told me he'd signed me up for it.”

Louis laughed, “Well, I suppose that would be a bit surprising.”

Harry pinched a tiny square of air between his fingers, “Only a little. If you knew Niall, it wouldn't be all that surprising. He signed me up for _Come Dine with Me_ as well. Luckily I never got the callback for that one.”

Louis cackled, positively delighted by the sheer audacity of this man he'd never even met.

“I like the sound of this guy.”

“I was a little bit shy as a kid, so I guess Niall thought he'd make it his mission to bring me out of myself.” Harry shrugged. “Either that or he just knew he could get me to do anything.”

“I bet your teachers _loved_ you two.”

Harry's widening grin told Louis all he needed to know. “Oh, absolutely.”

Louis' mind raced with images of a teenage Harry Styles, running around in his uniform and being a general pain in the ass. He allowed his eyes to glance over Harry's smooth face and neat curls, down to the black neck of his shirt, which rested against pale skin. Once again, Louis was struck by how much Harry wasn't his usual type, and yet he could hardly take his eyes off him.

“What's the worst thing Niall's ever made you do?” Louis asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Harry pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then attempted to tell the story of how Niall had almost gotten him beaten up by a prostitute while they were on a weekend trip to Amsterdam.

“ _What_?”

“He tricked me into taking a picture of him while we were standing in the middle of the red light district. You're not allowed to take pictures there because the girls don't like it, so when I pulled out my _Canon_ to take a picture of Niall, one lady pulled open her window and came for me! I had to leg-it out of there!”

Louis hit the table and threw back his head, eyebrows lifting with pure delight. “You're kidding! Did she get you?”

“No, I managed to escape. Though the tour guide told us that the week before a guy got his camera smashed. I mean, I get it and all, but I honestly didn't mean to upset them.”

Harry looked positively contrite as he pouted into his Mojito, as though the idea that someone could think he'd deliberately upset them was incredibly displeasing to him. Louis tilted his head to the side, unable to stop himself from being endeared. He shook himself when he realized he'd been staring for too long.

“To be honest, it sounds just like something I would do.” Louis smirked, distracting himself with a sip of wine. _Would've done_ , he corrects internally.

“What? Run from a prostitute?”

“No, trick my friend into a situation that forced him to run from a prostitute.”

“You're the Niall of your friend group, then?” Harry smiled, as though the thought made him happy.

“I _think_ I might be.”

“What's the worst thing you've made your friends do?”

Louis puckered his lips in thought, casting his memories back.

“Right,” Louis pulled himself forward and bracketed the air with his hands, setting the scene. Harry's eyes lit up. It was clear from Louis' stance that this story was going to be good. “Well, it would _have_ to be what I made Liam and Zayn do on the final day of high school. Everyone was talking about what the senior prank would be. The Head Boy, who was in charge of organizing it, decided that we couldn't do anything 'too extreme', so he decided that the prank would be releasing one hundred helium balloons into the air; one to reflect each member of the senior class.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, reflecting Louis' own thoughts on the lameness of it.

“So anyway,” Louis continued, “I took it upon myself to become the unofficial savior of the senior prank, nominating Liam and Zayn as my two lovely assistants. So, in the dead of night, before our final day of school, I convinced them to break into Halls Cross with me and fill the auditorium with one hundred pierced, frozen cans of shaving foam.”

Harry squinted in confusion for a moment as he tried to figure out how frozen foam could constitute as a prank. Then, slowly, a smile broke over his entire face and he practically glowed as realization struck him.

“No. _Way_!”

“ _Way_ ,” Louis grinned, “by morning the auditorium was filled with foam! It was absolutely _sick_.”

“That sounds fucking amazing!” Harry said. “I wish our senior prank had been that well orchestrated.”

“It's the 'Tommo' touch,” Louis winked, “makes it all the more dangerous.”

A flicker of deviousness passed through Harry's green orbs as he peered at Louis over the rim of his glass. “I can only imagine what your graduation must've been like. I bet all your lecturers slept with one eye open.”

Louis faltered for a moment. Harry seemed to sense his hesitation, because the devious glint in his eyes was soon replaced by concern. Before Harry could say anything, Louis smiled softly and cleared his throat.

“Actually, I didn't really have the time to pull a prank for graduation,” he huffed out a laugh, “I was planning my wedding, so...”

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry's mouth dropped open. “Oh, right. So you're...”

“Divorced,” Louis said.

“Oh.”

Louis couldn't help but cringe at the sudden awkwardness that had descended upon the table. _Divorce_. The word was to couples what _Voldemort_ was to the wizarding community. Harry broke the silence.

“We don't have to talk about that,” he shook his head, as though banishing the subject, “I'm sorry I-”

“No, no,” Louis waved his hands around, dismissing the apology about to fall from Harry's lips, “honestly, I really don't mind. It's not a sore point for me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

And OK, so maybe it was a lie, but it was worth it to see the tension melt from Harry's shoulders.

“How long were you married for?”

When Louis looked up, he was taken aback by the utter sincerity in Harry's eyes, intently focused on each and every reaction Louis gave. Carefully tuned.

“Three years,” he replied, voice sounding much easier than he felt, “together for ten.”

Contrary to Louis' words, his divorce _was_ an extremely sore point for him. Darren had cut out Louis' heart and fed it to the wolves, and Louis had been trying to sew the pieces back together ever since. He'd managed to get his heart back into working order; just strong enough to keep him alive, but too vulnerable to ever hand over freely again.

“That's a long time.”

Shit, no kidding.

“Yeah,” Louis shrugged, “still, happens every day, doesn't it? Can't blubber on about it, you've got to look forward. Besides, he was an asshole, and at least I found it out before I had the chance to waste any more years on him.”

Harry smiled, but didn't look terribly convinced. It made Louis' skin itch.

“Anyway, enough about me. What about you, Harold? Have you been married before?”

If Harry suspected that Louis was trying to change the subject, he politely kept it to himself.

“Nope, never been married.”

“Hm,” Louis, very blatantly, allowed his eyes to scan Harry's upper body, “would you be offended if I inquired as to what is wrong with you?”

Harry laughed, then shrugged. “I guess I must just be hideous.”

Now it was Louis' turn to laugh. “No, seriously, why are you single?”

“Why are _you_ single?”

“I'm _divorced_.”

Harry said nothing for a moment and Louis counted it as a victory. Divorce trumps everything.

“You want the truth?” Harry asked.

Nothing was more important to Louis than the truth.

“The truth will set you free, Harold.”

Harry snorted his amusement. “The truth is, I've never...”

Louis' eyes widened as Harry paused.

“Should I tune in next week? I think I can hear the _Hollyoaks_ theme tune.”

Harry let out a breath of frustration, cheeks reddening. Louis had to stop himself from giggling.

“Sorry,” Louis grinned, “continue.”

“The truth is, I've never been in a long term relationship before.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “What, never?”

Harry nodded.

“ _Ever_?”

Harry frowned. “No! I've never _ever_ been in a long term relationship.”

“OK,” Louis replied, skeptically, “any particular reason?”

“I don't know, I just...I was always so focused on work, you know? I always wanted to be a human rights lawyer, so at university I focused all my attention on studying. Then I got my Masters and interned at Irwin Mitchell's Law Firm. Then I got the job that I have now at Bindmans. I guess there was just no time left to start a long term relationship after all that, you know?”

Louis listened and nodded thoughtfully, aware of Harry's eyes on him. Finally, he said,

“I guess I can relate to that. After the divorce, I kind of threw myself into work. A little. I guess that's why we're both sitting here now, right?” Louis chuckled.

“True.” Harry smiled, softly. “So, you don't think it's weird that I'm twenty-eight and have never been in a proper relationship?”

“No, not weird, necessarily. I guess it's just not something I can relate to because I was in a relationship for so long.” Louis shrugged while Harry nodded thoughtfully, listening to every word. “I think if you find the right person, you just know. You don't have to make time for them, it just kind of happens. Maybe you just didn't find anyone who you wanted to be with in any real way?”

Something shifted in Harry's expression. Louis paused at the sight, momentarily transfixed by the obvious vulnerability of the man before him. He looked like a child, really. It was like Louis had revealed some secret part of Harry to himself. Louis could practically see the cogs turning in the younger man's head as he evaluated Louis' words. Louis wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and protect him from the world, which was ridiculous, because Harry was a _grown man_ and practically a stranger. Louis found it hard to believe that they were almost the same age.

Never one to hold back his thoughts, Louis said,

“You look a lot younger than me. You don't look twenty-eight.”

Harry startled at the sudden change of topic, but quickly relaxed into the new conversation.

“You shouldn't talk about someone's age on a date,” Harry scolded lightly, then immediately contradicted himself by asking, “why, what age are you?”

“Thirty.”

“A good age,” Harry smirked, eyes fixed on the table linen as he swiped away a speck of imaginary dirt from the surface. “A very good age.”

“Oh _really_? You like them older, Harold?”

“It's Harry.”

Louis leaned forward and propped his elbow on the table, letting his wrist languidly sway. “You say 'To-may-to', I say 'To-mah-to'.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “I don't like tomatoes, actually.”

“Not the point.”

“Even if I did like tomatoes, I wouldn't want old tomatoes.”

Louis stared at Harry, blinking several times in quick succession, before sighing and rubbing his forehead. Harry's grin was enough to give him a headache. Little shit.

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

Harry let out a small laugh at that. “I know.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” Harry took a slow, deliberate sip of his Mojito.

Louis flicked his eyelashes down, then back up, lightly fluttering them at Harry. Louis' eyelashes used to bring even the straightest man to his knees. “Do you like older men?”

Harry stared at Louis for a moment, hand curled around his glass, perfectly still. When he finally replied, Louis noticed the faint tremble in his voice. Barely detectable, but there nonetheless.

“Only a bit older.”

Louis' eyes glinted under the soft light of the restaurant. “How old would you go?”

Harry's mouth dropped open, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked scandalised, but in the best possible way. “A gentleman would never answer that question!”

“ _Are_ you a gentleman?”

“Well,” Harry said, delaying his answer, a sparkle in his eye, “I know _you're_ not.”

Louis pressed the back of his wrist to his hand and tried to stifle a laugh. God, he was actually enjoying himself. It felt so much easier than he thought it would, getting back into the dating game. Louis had worried that he'd be set up with a boring square, yet here he was, sitting with this man who was the perfect combination of vulnerable nymph and sex kitten.

At that moment, their orders arrived. A plate of delicately crafted swordfish was placed in front of Louis, sitting on a bed of salad with balsamic vinegarette. Harry's steak looked like it was still alive on the plate, red juices leaking onto the fluffy, white potatoes beneath. Harry took his knife and began cutting into it.

“Think a few more stabs should do it,” Louis quipped.

Harry blinked, “This is the way steak should be cooked!”

“Yeah, if you want to have a conversation with it!”

“Stop criticizing my food choices!”

“Stop ordering your food incorrectly!”

Harry pursed his lips, but Louis could see the threat of a smile ghosting across the edges. “Says the gay man who ordered fish.”

Louis tried. God knows, Louis tried not to laugh. He bit his lips and turned his head away to try and maintain his cool, but it was to no avail. When he began to chortle, he caught the expression of victory on Harry's face. Louis knew his humor could be a little jarring for some people, so he was glad that Harry seemed, not only to appreciate it, but also keep up with it.

It wasn't long before Louis' laughter began to infect Harry, to the point where he was cackling at his own joke. When they finally stopped laughing, Harry smiled and said,

“I'm having a really good time.”

Louis' heart hitched a little in his chest, skipping a beat. He was having a good time, too. A really good time. The thought of it surprised and scared him a little.

“Me too.”

“I'm glad our friends are so interfering,” Harry's eyes remained focused on his steak as he cut off a piece and placed it into his perfect, pink mouth, tongue first. Louis had never seen someone eat so strangely and yet so adorably at the same time. “I was worried I was going to get set up with someone awful.”

“Same,” Louis agreed, trying to focus his attention on his own meal, rather than on the way his date was eating, “I thought they were going to set me up with someone really over-the-top. You know, just for the entertainment value. I mean, this _is_ a TV show. They need to think about the ratings.”

As though to clarify this fact, a camera passed by their table, being wheeled along by a young man dressed in black. Harry giggled,

“Well, you haven't seen me drunk yet. A few more glasses of this,” Harry gestured towards his empty Mojito glass, “and I might just be your worst nightmare.”

“I bet you're an adorable drunk.”

Harry flicked his eyes over to Louis, then blushed under the compliment, as though it had taken him off guard. Definitely an adorable drunk, Louis thought.

Harry cleared his throat. “So, now that we've established what you _didn't_ want for this date, what were you hoping for?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, what's your type?” Harry's eyes glinted wickedly. “What were you hoping to see when I walked through the door?”

Louis paused for a moment. It didn't seem polite to inform Harry that he wasn't Louis' usual type.

“And don't bullshit me, I want to know the truth.”

The truth? The truth was that Louis had never dated someone like Harry before. Had never met someone like Harry before. Louis' type had always been blonde and tan, that was just the way it was, and yet something about Harry Styles had his insides all tied up into bloody knots.

“Well, I don't know. In the past, my 'type' was always blonde and tan.” Harry's face remained carefully neutral, as though encouraging Louis to continue. “My husband was blonde and tan. Every guy before him had been blonde and tan. I don't know, I guess it was just habit.”

“Must've been a shock when I walked through the door then,” Harry smiled, but his dark eyebrows puckered together, as though deep in thought about something.

Louis desperately wanted to inform Harry that his mere presence at this table was forcing Louis to question his most basic knowledge of what he had always constituted as his 'type', but he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Instead, he asked,

“What's _your_ type?”

Harry thought for a moment, chewing on a piece of steak. “Just someone nice.”

Louis quirked an eyebrow, “ _Nice_?”

Something dark brewed in Louis' chest. He couldn't decide if he fell into the category of 'nice' or not, given some of the cutting remarks he'd made during the course of this date. Something about that unsettled him. The thought suddenly occurred to him: What if he wasn't _Harry's_ type?

“Yeah, someone nice. Someone with a nice smile.” Harry affirmed.

When Harry glanced up, Louis smiled widely, exaggerating the gesture in a completely transparent manner. Harry laughed.

“I said a _nice_ smile.”

Louis maintained the expression, propping his chin on the back of his hand, as though to display it more adequately. “That's what I'm giving you. A nice smile.”

Harry's smile radiated his entire face. He looked like a completely different person when he smiled. There was something slightly feminite about the expression, but it suited him so perfectly that Louis wanted to do anything to keep it.

“You're giving me predator, Louis.”

Louis dropped the expression, chuckling lightly. “Come on, Harry, nice is such a _safe_ word. I told you my type, so what's yours? Give me something juicy.”

Harry shook his head, showing an exasperation with Louis that Louis had only ever seen reflected in the eyes of his closest friends before. Louis wondered how he'd managed to bond so quickly with someone he hadn't even known existed before this evening.

“OK, fine. I like guys who are funny,” Harry blushed, “I like being teased.”

Now Louis' face was red. He'd been teasing Harry all night.

“Yeah? What else?” Louis' voice lowered.

Harry, sensing that he'd succeeded in unnerving Louis a little, seemed to gather some confidence. He leaned forward, as though divulging a secret.

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Louis jumped when a waiter came over and asked if they'd like another drink. Louis kept his eyes on Harry as he asked for a beer. Harry ordered another Mojito, then gazed at Louis with a smirk as the waiter walked away.

“He your type? Seems to fit the bill. Blonde and tan, right?”

Louis hadn't even realised that the waiter that had just left their table was the same one that he'd been admiring earlier. He was so focused on Harry and figuring out if he fell under Harry's 'type'.

“I hadn't even noticed him, to be quite honest.”

Louis hadn't noticed anyone else since Harry had walked into the room.

“I'm glad.”

“You are?” Louis tried not to sound too eager, but failed.

Harry nodded.

Louis' heart tightened in his chest. God, maybe he was getting a bit ahead of himself. He needed to calm down. This was his first date in years, it was only natural that he'd maybe get a bit excited, but the way his stomach flipped worried him a little. Louis had always been the type of person to fall too quickly, too spectacularly, and the last time it happened resulted in a fiance at twenty-one and a marriage at twenty-three. Louis couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.

So, Louis did what he always did when confronted with too many emotions at once, he made a joke and changed the subject.

For the rest of their date, Louis kept their conversation light and fluffy, asking Harry about his time at University of Kent while regailing him with stories of his own time at university. He tried to avoid talking about Darren, but every now and again he wouldn't be able to avoid it, considering most of his twenties had been taken up by married life. Still, no matter how briefly they touched upon the subject, Louis always avoided talking about the reason why his marriage ended. Harry, ever the polite date, did not ask.

As time passed and the drinks continued to flow, it became apparent that Harry was in the later stages of being 'tipsy'. His curly hair was slightly dishevelled from where he'd been running his fingers through it all night, tangling his long digits into the strands. His cheeks were slightly rouged and the smile rarely left his face, even when Louis wasn't saying anything particularly funny. In truth, Louis himself wasn't much better. The edges of his mind were blurred and hazy, and he couldn't stop himself from giggling every time one of Harry's curls flopped down to sit in the middle of his forehead.

They decided to share a dessert. A fruit fondue, served with pineapple, strawberries and a belgian chocolate waterfall. When the porcelain bowl arrived at their table, Harry clapped his hands delightedly.

“I'm on a date with a toddler,” Louis sighed, shaking his head.

Harry kicked him under the table, lightly. “Heeeyyyy.”

Louis picked up a prong and speared a small cube of pineapple with it, dipping it into the chocolate and popping it into his mouth. A small dribble of chocolate fell from his lips and landed on his crisp, white shirt. Louis clasped a hand over his mouth and stared down at the stain with wide eyes.

“Oh no!” Louis mumbled around a mouthful of pineapple, “Shit!”

“Now who's the toddler?” Harry said, smugly.

Louis glared at him and began patting the stain with a napkin, only making it worse. Harry laughed as he watched from across the table, lifting a chocolate-covered strawberry to his own lips and opening his mouth. Just as he was about to bite into it, Louis smirked and kicked Harry's foot under the table, causing the other man to jump and drop the strawberry onto his own shirt. Louis cried out in victory.

“You _asshole_ , this is a brand new shirt!”

“Now we match.”

Harry leaned over and dipped his finger into the chocolate, then smeared it across Louis' face. Louis' mouth dropped open in shock. A camera quickly shuffled over to them, wide lens focused on Louis' face, gauging his reaction. Never one to be bested, especially on national television, Louis stuck his fingers into the chocolate and proceeded to smear it over Harry's cheeks. Harry tried to stop it by grabbing Louis' wrists, but Louis was suprisingly strong for his size. When they finally finished painting each other with their dessert, Harry and Louis sat across the table from each other, giggling and breathless, trying to gather up their composure.

Harry's tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick a piece of chocolate from his bottom lip and Louis tracked the motion with his eyes. The alcohol in his system prevented him from trying to be subtle about how turned on he was at the sight. Harry, equally as drunk, seemed just as aware of this fact.

When Harry slowly leaned across the table and stroked his thumb across Louis' bottom lip, sucking it into his own mouth, Louis stopped breathing. After a moment where neither of them said anything, Harry began to shuffle on his seat, as though re-thinking his rather bold gesture.

“Sorry, you had some chocolate,” Harry explained, voice low, eyes fixed on Louis.

“No, of course,” Louis' voice wobbled, “obviously.”

When the waiter came to take away their dessert, Louis excused himself to go to the bathroom. In truth, the _chocolate lip incident_ had riled something up in Louis and it was becoming difficult to pry himself back from the edge. Harry was _so_...lovely. So utterly unpredictable. Something about him mesmerized Louis in a way that he'd never experienced before. Maybe it was because he was different than the guys Louis was used to. Louis had always dated guys that were...well, _like_ Louis. Harry wasn't like Louis, though. Harry was this mix of sweet and sexy, bookish and cool, confident yet vulnerable. Harry seemed like the kind of guy that had went through High School being average and then suddenly became a swan.

When Louis relieved himself and stood in front of the mirror, inspecting his appearance, he winced at the chocolate stain that marred his Burberry shirt. Still, despite that one imperfection, he looked good. His hair was sitting perfectly, slightly longer than what he was used to, but still fluffy and touchable. His clean-shaven face made him look younger than his thirty years. In truth, he would definitely do himself. There's no reason Harry wouldn't want to. Still, a niggling seed of doubt wormed its way into Louis' thoughts.

Harry had never been in a long term relationship before and, though Louis had said that it wasn't a big deal, he couldn't help but wonder _why_ that was. Images of Harry prowling about the London gay scene, sleeping with men and then never calling them again, plagued Louis' mind. The harder he tried to repel them, the more they nestled into his brain. If that's what Harry wanted, that was fine, but Louis wanted something a little more stable. He had enough trouble trusting people without a flight risk on top of that.

At that moment, a man with a tight v-neck t-shirt and a pair of chinos exited one of the toilet cubicles and began washing his hands beside Louis. When he spoke, it was with a thick, Essex accent.

“How's your date going?” The man asked.

“Really good actually. Was quite surprised. You?”

“Bit of a nightmare, to be honest. She keeps looking at every other guy but me!”

Louis chuckled, “Sounds like you're better off rid, mate.”

“I know, but she's so fit! What's your girl like?”

Louis paused for a moment, wondering whether he should divulge the fact that his date was not a girl to this man. Still, he hadn't lied about his sexuality since he was sixteen, and he wasn't about to start now.

“Eh, not a girl, actually. My date's the guy with dark curly hair and chocolate on his face.”

The guy paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowed. Just as Louis was worried he'd made the wrong decision, the man's eyes lit up and he pointed his finger at Louis.

“Wait a second, I know the guy you mean! That's the one my date keeps looking at!” The man laughed, slapping a hand over his chest. “Looks like I don't need to worry after all. You need to watch out though, I've seen a few people eyeing up your date.”

Louis couldn't help the small knot of jealousy that coiled tighter in his stomach at the thought of anyone else's eyes on Harry.

“You guys make a cute couple,” the man stated, throwing Louis a wink, “I hope everything goes well for you two, after this, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Louis smiled, “you too.”

“No problem.”

When the guy left, Louis took a deep breath and finally stepped out of the bathroom to return to his date. When he returned to the table, Harry was in the middle of paying the bill.

“What are you _doing_?” Louis cried, causing Harry to look up with wide, green eyes. “You can't just pay the bill! We need to half it!”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to type his pin into the portable credit card device. “Don't be ridiculous, this is on me.”

Louis desperately wanted to protest more, but it was too late. The waiter pulled the receipt off and handed it to Harry, who smiled smugly at Louis as he stood up and tucked the piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket. When the waiter left, Louis stepped into Harry's personal space, trying to be threatening.

“You really shouldn't have done that.”

Harry stilled, and Louis was aware of how close they were. He could feel Harry's warm breath on his face as he replied,

“You know, normally when I pay for someone's meal, they just say thanks.”

Louis glanced up at Harry's eyes, then scolded himself when the alcohol in his system caused his gaze to drop down to Harry's soft lips. Harry licked them, obviously aware of Louis' stare. Louis shook his head and flicked his gaze up to Harry's eyes once again. Harry's pupils were blown, wide and black against the green of his iris'.

“Thanks,” Louis whispered, stepping away.

“You're welcome.”

The cameras followed them as they walked over to the reception area and collected their coats. Fred _Sirieix_ asked them to wait for a moment before leaving, so that they could perform a 'post-date analysis'. Louis knew what that meant. It meant he was going to have to find out whether or not Harry wanted to meet him again. Suddenly, Louis' heart began to thunder in his chest. He needed to calm down, so he asked if he could go outside for a cigarette. After being told that he could, Harry offered to join him on the porch.

As they walked out into the cold London air, they both walked over to the outside seating area. Harry sat down on one of the black armchairs, whilst Louis pulled a packet of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and lit up. The glow of his cigarette shone out as he inhaled a large lungful of smoke and shakily exhaled. Harry peered up at him from under long lashes, then slowly shuffled over on his seat, making room for Louis.

“I think I'll need a bit more space than that for my arse, love.”

Harry grinned, but continued to pat the small area beside him, urging Louis to sit down. “Mine isn't that big, you'll have plenty of room.”

Louis huffed out a laugh, then turned around and squeezed himself into the small patch of space available. Harry shuffled beside him, trying to make room, until they were both pressed close together on the single-seater.

“Well, this is cozy,” Louis turned his head to smile at Harry, but the breath left his lungs when he realised just how close they were.

Harry's face looked even more beautiful up close. Louis shivered. Harry, mistaking this for Louis being cold, began to take off his coat.

“No, _no_ , Harry, you're going to catch your death! I already have a coat, see!” Louis pulled on the lapels of his jacket. “Honestly, I'm fine.”

“But you're shivering,” Harry muttered.

“It's not because I'm cold.”

Louis didn't know if it was the alcohol that made him say it, but he could feel Harry's body tense beside him. When Louis looked over, Harry bit his bottom lip between his front teeth. He looked like Bugs Bunny. Louis wanted to kiss the worry out of his expression, but instead he just took another puff of his cigarette and stared at his shoes.

When Fred came out to usher them into the restaurant again, Louis' nerves were ablaze. He'd practically told Harry that being close to him made Louis tremble, for fuck's sake, and Harry hadn't said anything back. Nothing. In fact, come to think of it, Harry really hadn't given Louis any indication that he fancied him at all. Except for saying he liked to be teased, but that wasn't a guarantee of anything.

They were gathered into a little room at the back of the restaurant and Louis was ushered in first. He sat in front of the camera and was asked a few questions about how he thought the date went. Louis used to be the type of person who would've been brazen and bold if he liked someone, but nowadays he liked to keep himself a bit more guarded, so he kept his responses brief and vague.

When Harry eventually came into the room, Louis greeted him with a tight smile.

“Hey, love.” Louis said.

“Hi,” Harry replied, looking equally as nervous as Louis felt.

When they were both sitting beside each other, facing the camera, Louis heard Harry giggle nervously. When he looked over, he couldn't help but laugh at the sight of a still-clearly-very-drunk Harry with a hand covering his face, as though trying to hide his embarrassment.

Behind the camera, a man from Channel 4 sat with a clipboard in his hands, waiting for one of them to speak. Louis glanced at Harry, who could barely form a sentence between his muffled chuckles.

“So,” Louis said, figuring he was going to have to be the one to make the first move, “I thought we both got on really well, don't you think?”

Harry nodded, but still refused to speak. Louis glanced at the man off-camera.

“Do you think you'll both see each other again after this?” The man asked.

Louis peered at Harry. Harry peered at Louis. Louis absolutely was not going to be the one to break. In his eyes, he'd already made it quite clear that he liked Harry. Then again, he'd also said that Harry wasn't his usual type, so maybe Harry was just as clueless as he was. Finally, just as Louis was about to break, Harry's soft voice filtered through the silence.

“I would really like to see you again, Louis.”

Louis' heart exploded. It felt like butterflies had infiltrated he entire system and were about to fly out of his open mouth as he responded, “I'd like that too.”

When their eyes met, Louis' whole face melted into soft butter.

When they left the small room and exited the restaurant for the final time, it had started to rain. Their admission of mutual attraction had caused a slight wave of awkwardness to descend upon their interaction, and they stood beside each other with their hands in their pockets. When their arms accidentally brushed, a flicker of electricity coursed through Louis' system.

A black taxi pulled up alongside the kerb, asking if either of them needed a ride. Louis insisted that Harry take the first car, since he'd paid for their meals. Before Harry climbed into the back seat, he turned to Louis and stepped closer, until Louis could feel the heat of Harry's body under his winter coat.

“Thank you for tonight,” Harry said, “I had a really good time. Better than I ever thought.”

“Me too,” Louis smiled, shyly, “although I'll be sending you my dry cleaning bill for this shirt, Styles. It's Burberry.”

Harry laughed, throwing his head back. His breath smelt of mint leaves.

“Well then I guess I better get your number. For dry cleaning purposes, obviously.”

Harry pulled out his phone and pulled open his contacts, encouraging Louis to type in his number. When Louis entered his digits into Harry's phone, he rang his own mobile so that he would have Harry's number. When he returned Harry's phone to him, Harry immediately held it up and snapped a picture of Louis mid-laugh, insisting that he needed a contact photo to go with the name in his index.

For a brief moment, Louis wondered just how many men Harry had dated that were now reduced to photos in his contact list. As soon as the thought came, Louis shook it free. Now was not the time to be paranoid.

As Harry opened the door to his taxi and climbed into the back seat, he rolled down the window and rested his chin on the edge of the glass.

“I hope you know you're never going to get rid of me now,” Harry said, smiling mischievously, “you should never have given me your number.”

“Now you're just being creepy.”

Harry smiled widely, as though being teased by Louis brought him such physical delight that he simply couldn't contain it. The movement of Harry's laughter caused a curl to shift and fall across his forehead. Unable to stop himself, Louis reached out and swept the strands behind Harry's ear, allowing his fingers to caress Harry's cheek as he pulled away. When Harry looked up at Louis, his green eyes were glassy and low-lidded.

“G'bye, Lou,” Harry muttered, waving his fingers as the taxi pulled away from the kerb.

“Bye Curly.”

When the taxi rounded the corner and fell out of view, Louis pressed his hands to his face and let out a long groan.

Only one date and he was already in too deep.

-*-

For their second date, Harry took Louis ice-skating.

They'd both been texting constantly since their time on the show. However, due to their hectic work schedules, they weren't able to arrange a date until almost three weeks later. In that time, Louis had learned almost everything there was to know about Harry Styles; everything from his favorite band to the way he liked to eat his potatoes (mashed, same as Louis, because what fool would choose otherwise?) Still, because of the amount of time that separated their first date from their second, Louis' nerves were frazzled as he waited for Harry outside the Somerset House Ice Rink.

Harry had booked tickets for the 5:30 p.m skating session, which meant that Louis had spent the whole day buzzing with nerves. He'd changed his outfit three times and showered twice before leaving the house. Liam and Zayn had feared for his sanity.

In truth, Louis had never been so nervous about meeting someone before, and he really didn't know how to handle it. After watching Louis pace from room to room for more than an hour, Zayn sat him down and picked out his outfit for him while Liam tried to talk him down with calming, self-help buzzwords. Louis appreciated it.

“Seriously, mate, the guy likes you. You've been texting each other for weeks now! Chill out,” Liam had said, trying to ease out the tension from Louis' shoulders, “I know you're nervous, but you can't freak out.”

“I'm not freaking out.”

“You're freaking out a little,” Zayn piped up, picking a piece of fluff from the forest green jumper that he'd carefully selected for Louis to wear, “but Liam's right, there's no need. You called the guy up last week and made him listen to you pretend to be David Attenborough while you narrated Liam and Sophia making out. Only someone who really fancied you would listen to that.”

“Harry found that really funny,” Louis grinned.

“What! When was this?” Liam's eyes popped open, brown and bulging.

“At your housewarming party last week,” Zayn rolled his eyes, “seriously, Liam? He was doing it for like half an hour.”

“I never even noticed,” Liam pouted, angrily, “why did no one tell me?”

“Well, you seemed a little busy,” Zayn shrugged, “rude to interrupt, y'know?”

Liam slapped a big hand over his face. “ _Guys_.”

They'd bickered for a while after that, until eventually Liam was forced to drop the subject as it approached five-thirty and Louis had to leave to meet Harry. On his way out the door, Zayn had caught Louis by the wrist and pulled him into a tight hug. Louis relaxed into the embrace, patting Zayn's back with his hand.

“Promise me you'll give this guy a chance,” Zayn had said, digging his thumb into the space between Louis' shoulder blades.

Louis had nodded against his shoulder, unable to form words. Zayn and Liam had both been there for him during the divorce. They'd seen how much Louis had had to come through and they knew how deeply Darren's infidelity had affected him. Even though Louis liked to think he'd come a long way since those early days, it was moments like this that reminded him just how much he needed his friends.

Now, Louis was standing outside the grandiose entrance of Somerset House, waiting for a familiar flash of curly hair and a dimpled smile. The crowd around Louis was thick and bustling, knocking into him from every direction. When he felt a light tap on his shoulder, his whole body reacted to the sensation.

Louis turned around and was immediately confronted with a wide, beaming smile. Harry stood in front of him in a warm, black coat and skinny jeans, his hair pulled up into a bun, making his face look like it was cut from glass. The sight took Louis' breath away. In fact, he could see the condensation in the air from where the breath left his lungs. When Harry opened his arms and pulled Louis into a tight hug, Louis sunk into it, body loose and compliant.

“Hi,” Harry said, talking into Louis' hair, “good to see you again.”

“You too,” Louis grinned, pulling Harry tighter to him, “really good.”

When they pulled apart, Harry's cheeks were red, and it wasn't from the cold. It sent a pool of heat straight through Louis' stomach. For a while they simply stared at each other, two souls lost in a bustling crowd, until eventually a rude passerby nudged between their bodies, breaking whatever spell they were under.

“So, shall we?” Louis said, gesturing towards the entrance.

Harry nodded fervently, “Yes, of course, let's go. I've got the tickets here.”

They made their way through the entrance and collected their skates from the reception. From the moment Harry tied the skates to his feet, he transformed into something akin to a newborn colt, legs hobbling along as he tried to make his way from the bench to the rink. At one point, Louis was forced to reach out and pull Harry into his arms to prevent him from collapsing into a heap on the ground.

“Curly, what on _earth_ made you think that ice-skating would be a good idea for our second date?”

“Romance.” Harry replied, words muffled into the material of Louis' coat.

“Yes, very romantic, making sure you don't break your neck all night.”

Louis grabbed Harry's arms and practically carried him over to the edge of the rink, taking on almost all his body weight. Harry's giggling didn't help matters much.

“It's romantic for me,” Harry said, “I always wanted a knight in shining armor.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

Louis stepped onto the ice first, warming up with a gentle stride from left to right. When he was confident that he wasn't going to fall on his face, he glided over to the edge of the rink of coax Harry onto the ice.

“Come on, Curly, I'm going to teach you how to skate.”

Louis reached out for Harry's hand and caught the look on Harry's face as he bit his lip between his teeth. A small smile graced Harry's features, along with an eyebrow quirk, and part of Louis wondered if maybe Harry had known what he was doing all along when he'd booked this trip to the ice-rink. Slowly, tentatively, Harry reached out and grabbed Louis' hand, cupping them together.

When he took his first step onto the ice, Louis braced himself for an immediate fall.

To his surprise, Harry managed to maintain a relative amount of grace on the ice. They circled the rink a few times, taking it slow and easy, admiring the myriad of lights that danced and swayed over the surface. All around them, couples and kids glided along the glassy sheet, some fast and some slow. Others replicated Harry and Louis, one partner gently guiding the other along, and the sight warmed Louis' heart. When they finally managed to get into a rhythm, Harry was the first one to break the silent concentration that existed between them.

“Do you think this is what penguins feel like when they're in the Antarctic?”

Louis blinked at the question, unable to tear his eyes from Harry, who was looking at him with genuine interest.

“I suppose they do. I mean, it can't feel much different, can it?” Louis watched as Harry hobbled along, taking slippery steps instead of sliding his blades across the ice. “I'd like to imagine penguins are a little more graceful though.”

Harry gazed up at Louis with wide eyes, then slapped his arm playfully. Louis laughed, holding out his crooked elbow for Harry to steady himself. Harry scoffed at the gesture, but didn't hesitate in taking it. Louis was acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched.

“Do you think it's true what they say about penguins?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean?”

“That they mate for life.”

“Babe, you do know I'm not really David Attenborough?” Louis said, gently guiding Harry around an elderly couple, “I mean, I know I do a great impression, but I'm not _actually_ him.”

Harry pointedly ignored Louis' sass. “I watched a documentary about it once. They mate with the same penguin every year, season after season. How sweet is that?”

Louis bristled at the topic. For some reason, it hit a little bit too close to home.

“Too bad humans can't display the same loyalty,” Louis said, words like acid falling from his lips.

God, he didn't mean to sound so bitter, but he just couldn't help himself. Memories of wedding vows and broken promises filtered through his mind, accompanied by the image of his husband receiving a blow job from a man who wasn't Louis.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Harry said, immediately pulling his hand from Louis' arm. Louis felt cold, all of a sudden. “I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't thinking. Shit.”

“Harry,” Louis stopped in the middle of the rink and turned to face Harry, who refused to meet his gaze, “please, don't apologize. It's not your fault. I guess I'm just a little bit...jaded...when it comes to the whole 'everlasting love' thing. If there's one thing I've learned from being married, it's that it wasn't as easy as I thought. Honestly, I'm happy for the penguins. Thank fuck for penguins, they deserve to be happy. They're practically made for weddings, got the suit on and everything.”

Louis felt his whole body inflate when Harry burst out laughing, shaking his head and biting his lip as Louis reached down and laced their fingers together, squeezing Harry's hand. To Louis' delight, Harry squeezed back. Louis desperately wanted to show Harry that he wasn't bitter, that he was over his divorce, but sometimes the past came back to haunt him in unexpected ways.

In a bid to change the topic, Louis took his hand from Harry's and slapped them together.

“Right, I believe I told you I was going to teach you how to skate!” Louis said, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who suddenly looked petrified.

“But...but I am skating. Look. See?” Harry attempted the take a few steps forward, once again lifting his feet from the ice as he did so.

“Harold, that is not skating. That's just walking on ice.”

Harry frowned and looked down at his feet, then back up towards Louis, as though he didn't see the difference.

“You need to _glide_ ,” Louis emphasized his point by swooshing forward, then stopped himself by swirling around into a half-circle so that he was facing Harry once again. “Now you try.”

Harry just blinked at Louis for a few moments, before attempting to cross the small space that existed between them. Although the distance was small, not having Louis' arm there to support him caused Harry to hobble and wobble like his legs were made from gelatin. Shockingly, Harry managed to make it over to Louis' arms in one piece.

“There you go!” Louis beamed. “You actually skated that time as well!”

“I'm feeling very patronized right now,” Harry said, though he couldn't stop himself from grinning at Louis' praise.

“Should we try it from further away this time?”

For the next half hour, Louis tried to teach Harry to skate, increasing the distance between them each time, until eventually Harry was almost crossing half the length of the entire rink. A swarm of bodies hived between them as they waved at each other from across the divide, Harry's pink face and red lips grinning at Louis as he pretended to psyche himself up, as though preparing for an Olympic event. When Harry gave Louis a thumbs up to indicate that he was ready to go, Louis began to slap his knees, calling out to Harry like he was beckoning a Golden Retriever.

“Come on, Hazza!” Louis cried, ignoring the looks he received from other skaters. “You can do it!”

Harry had only fallen once since they'd began, but he'd never crossed such a large distance before, and it seemed to be affecting him. He was more unsteady on his feet as he attempted to dodge several skaters that intercepted his path. After avoiding one particularly large obstacle, Harry beamed as he looked up and realised he had almost reached Louis.

“You're almost there!” Louis said, not having to shout anymore because Harry was so close.

Just as Harry was about to come to a stop, he tripped up over his own skates and went tumbling into Louis' arms. Louis caught him, his own skates stuttering on the ice, but somehow he remained steady as he held onto the lump of Harry Styles in his arms. Harry braced his hands on Louis' forearms as he tried to pull himself up.

“You OK?” Louis asked.

Harry peered up at Louis from under lowered lashes and all of a sudden Louis was acutely aware of how close they were pressed together. Under his coat, Louis felt the press of Harry's fingers digging into his arms.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, pursing his lips together, “m'good.”

“You did really well,” Louis said, and the proximity of their bodies made the words sound intimate, “proud of you.”

Harry's hands tensed underneath the fabric of Louis' coat. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Time felt suspended as they stared at each other. Louis swallowed and tried to keep his breaths steady as his eyes focused on Harry's. It would be so easy to close the distance between them. The warmth of Harry's breath on Louis' face made the thought so enticing, but something was holding him back.

Louis had given his heart away foolishly once before, and there was something about Harry that made Louis believe that he could give it away again. Something in his green eyes and the way he swayed his hips when he walked. A _spark_. Like a magpie to a piece of tinfoil, Louis had always been attracted to a spark. He'd been burned by a spark before. This time, he wanted to be a little more cautious.

Louis tore his gaze from Harry's and gently squeezed his arm as he pulled back, putting some much-needed distance between them. Harry leaned forward slightly, as though chasing the proximity, but soon gave up. Disappointment clouded Harry's face as he frowned, green eyes racing over Louis'.

“I think our time's almost up,” Louis muttered, a nervous smile on his lips, “we should probably head back.”

“Oh, yeah...sure.”

“Do you need help? I can lend you my arm, if you want?” Louis rubbed the back of his neck, self-consciously.

“No, s'all right,” Harry said, “you taught me well, so...don't think I need the help.”

Louis tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as Harry wobbled past him, making his way over to the side of the rink. As Louis followed, he let out a long groan and pressed a hand over his face, silently kicking himself for being so awkward. For thinking so much. God, it was just a kiss, why was he being so weird about a kiss? He'd kissed people before. Still, this seemed different. Harry was the first guy Louis had liked since his divorce and that scared him. Louis hadn't realised how many walls he'd built around his heart until he attempted to give his heart to someone else. Sure, maybe he and Harry had only been on two dates, but they'd been in contact for almost a month. Texting every day and talking on the phone, even syncing their lunch hours so they could Facetime each other. Talking to Harry had become scarily familiar to him, like he'd known him his whole life.

Luckily for Louis, Harry wasn't the type to allow awkwardness to linger for too long. By the time they handed in their ice skates and made their way out of Somerset House, Harry was back to normal. Unfortunately for Louis, Harry's ability to move beyond the tension and return everything to its rightful state just made Louis want to kiss him more.

Somewhere between Kings College and the Victoria Embankment, Louis and Harry became embroiled in a heated discussion about what fruit would win in a fight if fruits were sentient beings. The debate was triggered when Harry pulled a mandarin out of his coat pocket and began to eat it, causing Louis to mercilessly tease him. Harry blushed under the scrutiny and proceeded to pull another mandarin out of his pocket, offering it to Louis, as though trying to appease him. Of course, this prompted Louis to tease him some more. In the back of Louis' mind he was aware of the fact that Harry _liked_ to be teased, which encouraged him to amp up his usual antics. Not only that, but the _almost-kiss_ at the ice-rink earlier had left a fizz in Louis' bones; a low-level vibration that made him twitchy. He couldn't keep his hands to himself.

“ _Obviously_ we're both wrong,” Louis said, “the answer to which fruit would win in a fight is not the coconut or the pineapple, but the unassuming mandarin.”

Louis reached into the coat of Harry's pocket and pulled out the spare mandarin, tossing it up into the air and catching it. Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I don't think the mandarin would win in a fight.”

“A-ha! Well you see, that's exactly why it would win!” Louis held up the orange fruit under the glow of a streetlamp, as though it were a gift from God. “Nobody would expect the mandarin to win. It'd be a sneak attack.”

“It's orange though. Orange isn't the best colour for a sneak attack. Cyclists wear orange when they want to be seen.”

“Yeah, but they've got segments. Divide and conquer, Harold.”

“I feel like the other fruits would be expecting that strategy and would plan accordingly,” Harry said, sagely.

Louis began to peel the mandarin, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in thought.

“I suppose you've got me there, Styles,” he said, separating the segments, holding them in the palm of his hand, “but tell me, would they be expecting _this_!”

Louis reeled back and began pelting Harry with Mandarin segments, watching as the tiny, orange bullets broke against the pale skin of his face. Harry cackled as he reached out to try and stop the onslaught, grabbing Louis' wrists in his big hands, forcing him to drop the remainder of his ammo to the ground. Harry wheezed with laughter, eyes bright and shining underneath chocolate curls.

“You're a menace,” he muttered, shaking the hair from his eyes.

“You should never have doubted the power of the mandarin.”

“I guess not.”

Harry smiled as he looked into Louis' eyes. They were so close, exactly like they'd been earlier, and Harry's hands were still loosely clasped around Louis' wrists. For one brief, wonderful moment Louis thought he'd been given a second chance. However, his dreams were soon dashed when he saw a flicker of apprehension cross over Harry's face, before dropping Louis' wrists from his grasp.Louis tried to hide his disappointment as Harry turned and pulled his phone from his pocket, checking his messages with a suspicious amount of focus.

“Niall wants to know if we want to grab a drink. He's at the Elk's Head,” Harry peered up at Louis, a small smile on his face as he shrugged. “What do you think?”

Louis paused for a moment, slightly taken aback that Harry would want to introduce him to his best friend after only two dates. As though reading Louis' thoughts, Harry said,

“No pressure or anything, I know we've only been on two dates. I understand if you think it's too soon to start meeting the friends.”

“I don't think it's too soon,” Louis said, the words falling from his mouth before he had time to think about whether or not they were true. He just...didn't want the date to end. “I'd love to meet Niall.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, we _have_ been talking for almost a month now. I don't think that's too soon at all.”

And God, it was worth it to see the smile on Harry's face. He looked like Louis had just told him he'd won the lottery.

So that's what they did.

When Louis and Harry arrived at The Elk's Head, the pub was bustling with life. Harry moved through the crowd effortlessly, carving a path for Louis to follow behind. They stopped at a booth at the farthest corner of the pub, where a brown-haired man was sitting with a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose. When the man looked up from his pint, his face lit up upon seeing Harry. Louis didn't have to be a scientist to figure out that this man was the infamous Niall Horan.

“Hazza!”

Niall stood up from his seat and wrapped one arm around Harry's neck, patting his shoulder. Louis stood awkwardly behind Harry, reaching across his own body to squeeze his right arm with his left hand. When Niall let go of Harry and set his eyes upon Louis, Louis smiled widely and reached out a hand to greet Harry's friend.

Louis was acutely aware of the fact that it was important for Niall to like him.

“You must be the poor soul who was forced to go on a date with this one,” Niall gestured towards Harry, who raised his fists and pretended to punch Niall in the face.

Louis laughed, “That's me, yeah, unfortunately.”

Harry turned to Louis with a look of betrayal in his eyes. “Mustn't have been that bad, since you agreed to a second!”

“I have pretty low standards.”

Harry's mouth dropped open, aghast. Niall's face broke out into an expression of pure delight as he burst into laughter, sitting back down on his chair and slapping his stomach. “Oh, I like him, Harry.”

“I'm not sure I do anymore,” Harry mumbled, but at the same time Louis felt an arm snaking around his waist, pulling him tighter into Harry's side. A rush of warmth spread from Louis' core to every corner of his limbs at the possessive gesture.

It was only when Harry and Louis sat down opposite Niall in the booth that Louis noticed the other man sitting at their table. The guy was lanky and thin, brown hair pushed up into a quiff and dark eyes flickering over Louis' face with an amused expression. Louis held eye contact with the man, whose gaze alternated between Louis and Harry in equal measures, as though summing them both up.

“Hey Grimmy,” Harry chirped, “long time no see. You and Niall on a date? We're not interrupting, are we?”

The laughter that rippled across the table at the comment clarified to Louis that Niall and 'Grimmy' were not, in fact, a couple.

“I don't think I could handle Niall, to be honest,” Grimmy said, taking a sip from his bottle of _Tsing Tao_ , “maybe if he was still a blonde, I'd think about it.”

Niall swept a hand back through his brown hair. Louis couldn't imagine him blonde.

“Is it true that blondes have more fun, Niall?” Grimmy continued, turning to face Niall with a thoughtful finger poised to his chin, “Or is that a myth?”

“Would you let it go, Grimmy? I haven't been blonde in five years and it's not coming back. Let it go!”

“I'll never let it go.”

Harry giggled at the heated interaction between his two friends. The playful bickering reminded Louis of Zayn and Liam.

“Sorry about this, Louis,” Niall said, rolling his eyes towards the tall brunette beside him, as though he was the source of all life's problems, “I used to be blonde, in case you hadn't figured that out.”

“Yeah I got that. I can't see it, myself, though.”

“ _See_ , Nick,” Niall turned to Grimmy -or, Nick, it seemed- and gave him a look like Louis had just confirmed every thought he'd ever had, “the blonde didn't work. It was a phase and now we've moved on.”

“I'll always have a place in my heart for Blonde Niall,” Nick lamented.

“What made you dye your hair blonde, anyway?” Louis asked, feeling like he was missing something vital about this discussion.

Niall and Nick cast their glances over to Harry. When Louis turned around, Harry was biting his lips, a smug smile plastered over his face.

“Tell him, Haz,” Niall said, “tell the nice man what you made your good friend Niall do.”

Harry cleared his throat, “Right, here's the thing. I told you about how Niall always talks me into doing stupid shit? Well, there may have been _one_ time where I actually managed to talk _him_ into doing something stupid.”

At that moment, Niall butted in, as though Harry wasn't getting to the good part fast enough.

“I was crazy about this girl, right? Barbara, you called her. Well, Harry comes home one night, all fuckin' excited like a kid at Christmas and tells me that he ran into Barbie at a club and was talking to her for a bit. _Blondes_ , he says, _she likes blondes_! He's looking at me with the Devil in his eyes, absolutely off his tits on one thing or another. Next thing I know, I'm leaning over the sink with peroxide in my hair, smelling like a Granny under a hairdryer.”

Nick howled at the story. Harry turned red and was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out of his mouth.

“And did it work?” Louis asked, eyes crinkled as he soaked in the amusement of the others.

“Yeah, we dated for three years. I let it go back to brown when we broke up.” Niall said, “and now we never speak of it. Except for when this twat brings it up.”

They continued to talk for another hour, Niall regaling Louis with stories of other things Harry had made him do. It seemed that Harry wasn't the innocent, wide-eyed follower that he'd led Louis believe. As friends, Harry and Niall complimented each other, and it was a nice sight to see. Louis was a firm believer in the assumption that you could judge a person by the company they kept and in Louis' eyes, if all Harry's friends were like Niall, that was fine by him.

Then again, Louis quickly figured out that not all Harry's friends were like Niall. Nick Grimshaw was a bit more abrasive and he was starting to get on Louis' nerves. On some occasions, Louis appreciated Nick's biting humor, but something about the way that Nick interacted with Harry made Louis pause. It started with a hand on Harry's hand, just a fleeting graze, then a foot tap under the table as they silently communicated over something stupid that Niall had said, laughing under their breaths. It wasn't long before the slithering, green tentacles of jealousy began to circle their way around Louis' bones, holding him captive against his will.

The truth was, Louis had never been a jealous person before, and he had no idea how to deal with this new emotion. Still, with every single look shared between Nick and Harry, Louis felt his skin prickle. He was one minute away from snarling and clinging onto his date like a koala. Instead, he opted for a hand on Harry's thigh under the table, squeezing softly. He felt Harry's leg tense under his touch momentarily, before relaxing. Although Nick couldn't see the gesture, it was enough for Louis to know that his hand was there, where Nick's wasn't.

“So Harry, got any big plans for next Saturday night?” Nick asked, setting his chin on his knuckles as he gazed at Harry from across the table.

Harry glanced at Louis for a moment, then slowly replied, “Well, uh, I've got this case I'm working on and-”

“ _Wrong_. You're coming to the opening of Club Inferno with me and Niall. I know the owner, so we get free drinks all night. You're welcome.”

Louis bristled in his seat at the thought of Harry going to a club opening with Nick. He knew he was being absurd, because Nick and Harry had been friends for years from the sounds of things and nothing had happened between them so far. He was just being paranoid. Still, Louis couldn't stop himself from shifting closer to Harry, staking some silent claim on him that he didn't have any rights to.

“I don't know, Nick, I-”

“You are _twenty-eight_ , Harry! Live a little. Remember when we were at Kent? You used to be able to out-party _me_ and that is really saying something. You can manage one night off work.”

“I'm just not sure if-”

“Louis,” Nick turned his attention to Louis, “you'll come, won't you? You look like a guy who knows how to have a good time.”

Nick wasn't wrong. Louis' years at university were often remembered through a haze of flashing colours and laughing until his whole body hurt. Louis thought about all the reasons why he shouldn't go to the club opening (and there were many), but the only thing he could think about was the fact that it'd been three weeks between his and Harry's first and second date, and Louis didn't want to wait another three weeks to see Harry again. By the look on Harry's face, Louis knew that if he agreed to go, Harry would go too.

“I've got no big plans for next weekend,” Louis said, making a mental note to clear his entire schedule for next weekend.

“Really? You'll go?” Harry's eyes lit up as he looked at Louis. Louis nodded.

“Great! So it's settled then! I knew you were up for a good time, Tomlinson.”

Louis smiled tightly at Nick, but his face softened as he glanced back at Harry, who was trying to control the huge grin that had settled over his features. He looked so bone-achingly beautiful.

They all chatted for another half an hour before Niall and Nick eventually called it a night and decided to go home, but not before Niall made Louis promise that he would definitely be coming out the following weekend to the club opening. _If you don't come, Harry won't come_ , Niall stage whispered, earning him a dark look from Harry, _so please teach our lawyer-friend Harry how to have fun again_? Louis laughed and promised that he would be there.

Harry walked Louis home, despite Louis' protests that Harry's apartment was closer to The Elk's Head than Louis' and that it would be far too out of his way. However, his protests fell on deaf ears. Still, having Harry's presence beside him for the long walk home wasn't the worst thing in the world. When they arrived outside Louis' building, he turned to face Harry.

“Well, this is me,” Louis said, taking a step up so that he could lean back on the front door. He suddenly felt like a teenager in a 1950's coming-of-age drama.

“Nice building,” Harry said, peering up to survey the height of the red-brick structure, “suits you.”

Louis made a face as though to ask ' _how can a person suit a building_?' but in truth he was used to Harry saying things like that. After three weeks of talking to the younger man almost every night, Louis had come to realize that Harry asked very bizarre questions sometimes and that the correct response was usually to just go along with it. It was just one of many things about Harry that Louis was hopelessly endeared by.

“I'm glad you think so, since I spend about forty per-cent of my time here,” Louis grinned.

“Just forty?”

“I spend the other sixty at work,” Louis rolled his eyes, “kind of threw myself into it after the divorce. Being home gave me too much time to think, so...”

Harry nodded in understanding, careful not to push Louis for more information than he was comfortable to give. Louis knew that if he and Harry were going to try this then he would have to open up about his past at some point, but the second date was not the time.

“You don't have to come next weekend, you know? Don't feel pressured or anything,” Harry said seriously, as though battling some internal conflict, “I can tell Nick you're too busy. I mean, I understand, I have work too and-”

“Harry,” Louis reached out and pushed his index finger against Harry's lips to silence him, “I _want_ to go.”

“I know, but, I just...” Harry sighed, “I just know you're busy and that this is new. I don't want you to feel like you have to go.”

Louis laughed, “Harry, do you not _want_ me to go?”

“No!” Harry stepped forward and set his hands on Louis' biceps, as though the idea that Louis could think that was preposterous. “Louis, it's definitely not that I don't want you to go. Of course I do. I'm not making any sense, ugh...” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I'm trying to say is that if I have to wait another three weeks, or four weeks, or two months before I see you again, then I'll wait it.”

Louis' body trembled with the force of his heart beating against his chest.

“Harry, I don't _want_ to wait another three weeks to see you.”

Harry's eyes flickered across Louis' face, glinting dark green. “You don't?”

“No. Is that really so hard to believe?”

Harry huffed out a laugh, “I just don't want to scare you off.”

God, Louis couldn't stand it. He leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to the side of Harry's mouth, pulling back only a little to gauge his reaction. When he flicked his eyes up, Harry was looking at him through lowered lids, accepting the kiss like he'd been waiting patiently for it all night. Louis repeated the action, letting his lips linger a little longer this time, but when he tried to pull back he felt Harry's hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently, holding him in place. Louis paused and for a moment they just stared at each other, until finally Harry pressed Louis back into the front door and covered Louis' mouth with his own.

Louis sank into the kiss, sighing into Harry's mouth as the other man hunched over him, blanketing him until it felt like they were covered from the world. Harry's hands cupped Louis' jaw, lifting his face up to deepen the kiss, their tongues caressing slowly. It was the most patient kiss Louis had ever received, almost reverent in its delivery, and when Harry broke it off it was too soon.

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry said, smiling shyly as he turned and stepped down from Louis' doorstep, “I'll see you next weekend.”

“B-bye,” Louis lifted a hand and waved it weakly, slightly dazed.

By the time Louis walked up to his flat and flung himself onto his bed, he'd worked into a frenzied state of lust. The memory of Harry's lips on his, long body pressing him into the door frame, made Louis feel more desired than he'd felt in years.

The feeling possessed him, consumed him, until he was kicking off his jeans and reaching down into his boxers to take himself in his fist. When he began to stroke, it was with an urgent need, just something to take the edge off his own frantic thoughts. Harry's name swam around in his head as he lifted his hips from the bed and thrust into his hand, chasing climax. When Louis finally came, he reached over to grab a Kleenex from his nightstand and began to clean himself up, suddenly embarrassed by how affected he'd been by a simple kiss.

That night, just as Louis was starting to drift off to sleep, his phone vibrated on his bedside cabinet. He reached over and pulled it towards him, eyes adjusting to the glow of the screen in the darkness. It was a message from Harry.

_Would you find it weird if I told you I missed you already?_

The message was accompanied by several emojis. Normally Louis would've scoffed, but the lurch in his stomach as it swooped at the tender words across the screen made it impossible. Louis typed out a quick response, not giving himself enough time to overthink it.

_I feel the same way :) Only a week to wait, Curly x_

The reply came almost instantly.

_Still feels too long :( xxxxx_

Louis smiled so widely he thought his face was going to break. He snapped a quick picture of himself, cross-eyed and smiling manically, then sent it to Harry with the caption:

_This one's for the wank bank ;) xxxxxxxxxxxx_

Harry replied with a picture of himself pulling a sad face, cursing Louis for getting his hopes up. After a few more texts back-and-forth, they eventually called it a night.

_Sweet dreams, Curly. Don't miss me too much xxxxxxxxx_

_I won't miss you in my dreams, that's where I imagined you up ;) xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

And God, it was so cheesy. So utterly wrong, but Louis couldn't stop reading the words over and over, letting them sink into every fibre of his being, making him warm. Of course, Louis couldn't let Harry know how much of a sap he was, so he sent him a queasy emoji.

It was the first time in years that Louis went to sleep with a smile on his face.

-*-

Club Inferno was the type of club that Louis would've frequented on a regular basis at university. It was stylish and modern, decorated with seduction in mind and packed to capacity. It seemed like everyone in London was at the club opening.

With Nick Grimshaw in their social circle, Harry, Louis and Niall were led into a VIP area where they were plied with the alcohol of their choice and a complimentary bottle of Moet & Chandon. It seemed like Nick knew everyone at the club opening, continuously stopping to chat with one person after another. Louis couldn't help but feel hopelessly inadequate beside him. Was he really expected to believe that nothing had happened between Nick and Harry, when Nick seemed to be the toast of the town?

In the week leading up to the club opening, Louis had subtly inquired about Harry's relationship history with Nick during one of their late night phone calls. Harry had laughed at the suggestion, saying that he and Nick had been friends since university and that absolutely nothing had happened between them. Still, Louis knew that even if Harry was oblivious to the fact that Nick wanted him, Nick very clearly wanted him. It was so obvious to Louis, with every thoughtless caress and private smile that Nick gave, that he was so gone for the curly-haired man that Louis couldn't even ignore it.

Still, for Harry's sake, he tried to control his jealousy. It was hard though. Fuck, it was hard. Being cheated on had twisted Louis' brain into a paranoid maze of insecurity, which he hadn't even realised because he hadn't dated anyone seriously since the divorce. There was also the fact that Harry had never been in a serious relationship before ever, which also unsettled Louis, because what if Harry was seeing other people? The thought alone was enough to make Louis fidgety. Louis never wanted to share anything that belonged to him ever again!

Louis shook himself. Harry didn't belong to him, he had no rights to Harry, but after a month of constant contact, Louis had grown...attached. This attachment came out in full force after Louis had drank his body weight in free alcohol and a quarter of a bottle of free champagne.

“You're so pretty,” Louis purred, half-sitting in Harry's lap in the VIP booth, forcing Niall to sip his drink and politely pretend to ignore them. “Seriously, how do you even leave the house in the morning? If I were you I'd just stand in front of the mirror all day, looking at myself.”

Harry smiled at him, white teeth shining in the dark of the club. Still, Louis could see the rush of red in his cheeks, a mixture of joy and embarrassment. The crinkles around the corners of his eyes reminded Louis of his own. He was getting older, he realised, and he was looking for someone. In his drunken state, Louis couldn't help but think that Harry seemed to be exactly it.

“I could say the same about you,” Harry said, leaning closer, eyes focused intently on Louis' face. The slur of his words indicated that Harry was just as inebriated as Louis. “If I were you I'd probably never stop feeling my ass.”

Louis threw his head back, eyebrows shooting up with joy and shock. “My ass?”

“Yeah, I'd just, like, touch it all the time. I'd just fondle my own ass all the time.”

“God, don't say 'fondle,' I hate that word.”

Harry leaned in with a mischievous smile and whispered, “Fondle.”

Louis' eyes sparkled as he peered at Harry. “Stop saying that.”

“You don't hate that word at all. You're eyes light up every time I say it. Fondle.”

Louis shoved a hand over Harry's mouth, as though trying to plug up a hole in a sink. At this point, Niall's exasperated voice broke through their blissful bubble.

“Would you guys please stop it,” he moaned, causing Louis and Harry to turn towards him, “I'm trying so hard to be polite here, but you're both sickening! Aren't you too old to be doing this?”

“How dare you!” Louis cried. “I'm thirty years young!”

“Yeah, what he said,” Harry gestured towards Louis, “stop raining on our parade.”

“I wish it were raining, you guys need some water thrown over yas!”

This caused Harry and Louis to share a heated look, before breaking into laughter.

“Jesus Christ I can't take this. Where's Nick?” Niall asked, peering around for the tall brunette.

This caused Louis and Harry to pause for a moment. In truth, neither of them had noticed that Nick was gone.

“He must be talking to one of his billion friends,” Harry shrugged, “Nick knows everyone.”

Maybe, Louis thought, or maybe Nick was sick of watching Louis and Harry cozying up to each other and decided to leave. Louis suspected it was the latter.

“Maybe we should look for him,” Niall suggested, standing from his seat.

“Sure,” Harry agreed easily, standing up as well, “and maybe when we find him we can dance. This place has been playing great stuff ever since we arrived.”

Louis reluctantly grunted his agreement. He really wanted to stay in the VIP area and ravage Harry some more. Still, he was drunk and horny, maybe grinding on Harry on the dance floor wouldn't be such a bad alternative.

When they finally found Nick, he was in the smoking area chatting with an eclectic group of people, standing in the center and drinking in their laughter like a narcissistic sponge. The worst part about it all was that Louis _understood_. He understood why people liked Nick and why Harry liked Nick, because Nick was funny and quick and seemed to know all the right people. If Louis had never met Harry and wasn't such a jealous idiot, he would probably want to be Nick's friend too. That realisation just made his irritation with the older man worse.

“Harry!” Nick threw up his hands as he spotted Harry approaching, stepping out from the inner-circle to throw one arm around his shoulder. “Are you guys having a good time? Sorry I've been MIA all night, I've been a terrible host!”

“I know. It's all we've been talking about all night, to be honest,” Harry replied, humor dry-as-a-bone.

“Aw, did you miss me, Hazza?” Nick pinched Harry's cheek, causing Louis to let out an overly forced, fake laugh. _Ha ha ha_.

Nick ignored the pointed sass, but Harry's neck snapped towards Louis as he furrowed his eyebrows and made a small thumbs-up gesture with his left hand. Louis shook his head, waving off the incident. He was fine. Honest.

However, when they all made their way back inside towards the dance floor, Louis' patience was pushed to the limit as Nick grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him through the crowd. Niall and Louis followed behind, Niall throwing Louis apologetic glances as Louis tried to maintain the appearance of cool detachment. Harry's brief, concerned glances towards Louis did nothing to settle his nerves either.

“They really are just friends,” Niall called out over the steady thump of the music, as though reading Louis' thoughts.

Louis gave the Irishman a tight smile, “I know, Harry told me.”

“The thing is, I know what it looks like, but,” Niall's eyes shifted from Louis' face to the floor, as though trying to select his words carefully, “Harry doesn't think of Nick like that. He never has. Sometimes he's just...too nice, maybe? Some people read into that wrong.”

Too nice. Harry was just too nice. And God, didn't that just sum it up perfectly.

“Louis,” Niall's hand settled on Louis' shoulder, anchoring him to the present and stopping him from flying away with his thoughts, “Harry really likes you.”

Louis peered into Niall's eyes, taken aback by their deep sincerity. For one moment, Louis dropped the act of pretending not to care.

“Niall...I really like him too.”

“Then please don't write him off.” Niall said, casting glances over to Harry as he spoke, as though afraid of being caught. “Listen, I know you were married and all, and I don't know what happened with that, but I know Harry's really trying not to pressure you too much. It's none of my business, but I just thought you should know. Harry really likes you and there is nothing going on with him and Nick.”

As they stood in the middle of the dance floor, Louis couldn't help but wonder if maybe Niall _did_ know what had happened to his marriage. Had somehow figured it out from the way Louis' jealousy poured out of him like a spitting geyser.

“I believe you.”

Niall nodded, appeased, then slapped Louis' shoulder twice before retracting his hand. It seemed like a matter had been settled. Unfortunately, Louis was still paranoid (and still a jealous idiot) so when Nick dragged Harry away to introduce him to some of his Radio DJ friends, Louis excused himself to go for a cigarette.

“I can come with, if you want?” Niall offered, arms wound around the waist of a petite redhead.

“You look a little busy,” Louis smirked.

Niall didn't respond, his mouth too preoccupied to form words.

When Louis returned to the smoking area, the cold air hit his face and cooled his sweat-drenched body. He'd sobered up significantly since Nick had joined them, and his head was beginning to pound. He propped himself against a brick wall and pulled out a Marlboro, lighting it up and taking a deep drag to calm his nerves. He closed his eyes, letting the smoke fill him up, then slowly exhaled. _Relief_. He stayed like that for a few moments, letting the sounds of laughter and chatter wash over him, relaxing him.

“Louis?” Louis' eyes snapped open at the sound of that voice. He'd recognize it anywhere. “Is that you?”

Louis turned his head slowly, heart thundering in his chest as his eyes searched for the face that he knew belonged to that voice.

Darren looked exactly how Louis remembered. Blonde hair gelled back into a loose quiff and wide, blue eyes peering out from a lightly bronzed face. Louis felt dazed, like this was a nightmare that he'd soon wake up from. He couldn't find any words so he simply stared, blinking slowly at the man in front of him. Literally everyone was at this club opening.

“I can't- I can't believe it's you.” Darren mumbled, stepping closer. Louis wanted to tell him to fuck off, but his whole body felt numb with shock. “I haven't seen you since...”

Darren trailed off, obviously remembering that the last time he'd seen Louis they'd both been accompanied by two lawyers and Louis' eyes had been red-rimmed from crying so hard. They weren't red now though. They were steely and blue, cold as ice, and they would not break from Darren's gaze.

“How've you been?” Darren asked, breaking through the uncomfortable silence.

A flair of red hot anger bubbled under Louis' skin. How's he been? How's he _been_? Louis could've exploded. Memories of long, lonely nights spent in an empty apartment plagued his thoughts, crawling out of the woodwork of his mind like gargoyles. It had taken him over a year to get over the breakdown of their marriage and now that Louis was finally making progress and moving on, finding someone new, there Darren was. A ghost from his past, still haunting him.

“Are you fucking serious with that question?” Louis' voice was eerily void of emotion as he spoke. “You approach me at a club and ask how I've been, like you aren't the last person I'd ever want to speak to? Fuck you.”

“I know, all right? Louis please, just hear me out.” Darren stepped forward, invading Louis' space, setting a hand on his bicep. Louis ripped his arm away. “Please, Lou. Can't we just talk?”

“I think we said everything that needed to be said through our lawyers,” Louis snapped, “I particularly enjoyed hearing your letter of apology read out to me by Simon, that was the fucking cherry on top of a very fine year.”

Darren pressed a hand to his forehead and ran his fingers down his face, obviously realizing that he wasn't going to get what he wanted from this interaction. For several tense seconds, Louis just stared at the ground.

“Are you still with Nigel, then?” Louis hated himself for asking.

“Fuck, Louis, no,” Darren said, rolling his eyes, “I never wanted to be with Nigel, you know that!”

“Just an office quickie then? Fuck, glad our marriage was so worthless to you. Didn't even take you to love the bastard you cheated on me with!”

Louis knew this would happen. Knew that if he ever ran into Darren again that it would turn into a full blown battle of wills. Who could destroy the other with the cleanest cut.

“Louis, there you are!”

Harry's voice broke through the chaos of Louis' thoughts, lifting his gaze up towards the sound. As Harry made his way through the crowd towards Louis, his eyebrows puckered, immediately sensing that something was off about the interaction he was walking into.

Louis remained silent as Harry pressed into his side and kissed his cheek, lips warm against the cold night air. Darren's eyes narrowed at the gesture, but held onto Louis' gaze.

“It was a mistake, all right? The worst God damn mistake of my life.” Darren whispered, completely ignoring Harry's presence. “You know that. I know you do.”

“What's going on?” Harry asked, voice thick and gravelly from shouting in the loud club. “Louis?”

Louis tore his eyes from Darren and smiled softly at Harry, feeling himself grow lighter at the mere sight of him. “Nothing, babe, was just having a smoke,” Louis tossed the stub of his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out, “was thinking about quitting though. Bad habit. Toxic. Not good for me at all. Come on, let's go back inside.”

Harry's gaze alternated between Darren and Louis, and Louis could practically see the cogs of his mind working to try to figure out the puzzle. Louis grabbed Harry's hand and was just about to lead him back into the club, but he couldn't stop himself from pausing beside Darren.

“I know you regret it,” Louis muttered darkly, low enough for only Darren to hear, “but you made your own bed. Now lie in it, dog.”

Before the blonde could respond, Louis pulled Harry's hand and made his way back into the nightclub. When they entered, Louis immediately dropped Harry's hand and made a bee-line for the exit, mind whirring with the weight of what had just occurred. Harry's voice followed him all the way to the reception area, where Louis picked up his coat from a bemused member of staff and pulled it over his body, hands shaking as his fingers fumbled with the zipper. When Harry finally caught up with him, his face was riddled with concern, eyes focused on the tremor coursing through Louis' body.

“Louis, please, just calm down. Tell me what happened.”

“I just want to go home,” Louis continued to fumble with his zipper.

“All right, I'll take you home, we can leave now. I'll text Nick and tell him I'm walking you home.”

“No, please don't do that! Go back inside, have a good time, I just...I just need to calm down.” Louis felt breathless, on the verge of a panic attack. “Christ, why can't I calm down?”

Harry batted Louis' hands away from his zipper and fastened it himself, fingers soft and careful, as though Louis were a spooked animal that needed to be coddled.

“I'm not going back inside,” Harry whispered, mouth pressed to the shell of Louis' ear, “I'm walking you home whether you like it or not.”

Harry emphasized his point by pressing a kiss to Louis' temple. Louis closed his eyes and breathed, panic subsiding for the briefest of moments. As they walked away from the club and into the empty streets, Harry pulled out his phone and called Nick to tell him they were going home. Louis listened quietly while Harry assured Nick that nothing was wrong, all while casting Louis solicitous little glances. Louis felt a rush of guilt at having single-handedly ruined the night.

When Harry hung up, they walked in silence for a few blocks, listening to the ominous sounds of the city at night. Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren rang out.

“Was that your ex-husband?”

Louis let out an audible sigh as the question that he'd been anticipating finally broke the silence. When he looked up at Harry, it was with an expression of utter weariness.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly, “that was him.”

Harry nodded, lips pursed together as he sucked in his cheekbones and stared straight ahead. Now it was Louis' turn to stew in silence. They didn't speak again until they were outside the front door of Louis' apartment building.

“Do you want to come in?” Louis asked.

“Only if it's OK with you.”

Louis couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Harry's. He hadn't even closed the full distance between their lips before Harry was meeting him halfway.

“It's OK by me.”

Louis' apartment was a small, two-bedroom condo on the fourteenth floor that he'd gotten in the divorce. The walls were bare white, because Louis had taken down all the framed pictures of him and Darren when the separation was finalised. He'd never noticed how empty his apartment was before until he tried to imagine what it must've looked like through Harry's eyes. It was a beautiful apartment, all open plan and glass panel windows, but it was a blank canvas.

“Do you want tea?” Louis asked, walking into the kitchen and switching on the kettle.

“Sure.”

Louis watched from behind the breakfast bar as Harry walked through the living room, casting an eye over the empty shelves and meagre décor. Louis cringed at how pathetic it all must look to him.

Louis made the tea and brought it in to Harry, who was settled on the plush creme-coloured sofa in the living room. Louis set the cups on the glass coffee table before settling down beside Harry, propping his feet up underneath his legs.

“He cheated on me,” Louis said, simply, because what else was there to say except the truth? “I walked in on it happening. He was with one of his co-workers and I stopped by to bring him some files that he'd forgotten at home.”

“Shit, Lou,” Harry's voice sounded pained as his hand reached out to circle Louis', “that's...that's so awful.”

Louis nodded, because it was true. It was awful.

“That's the first time I've seen him since it ended.”

“What did he say to you?”

Louis dropped Harry's hand to reach out and grasp his cup of tea, needing something to busy himself with, lest he completely crack under the weight of this conversation. It was the first time he'd actually sat down with someone and talked about it. He'd spent so long burying his feelings with work.

“He told me that it was all a big mistake. The worst mistake of his life, apparently,” Louis rolled his eyes, “nothing I haven't heard before.”

Harry's eyes dropped to the floor, “Do you think he wants you back?”

“Doesn't matter if he wants it,” Louis said.

“Are you sure about that?”

Something about the way Harry asked the question, eyes low and searching, made Louis pause.

“Why would you even ask me that?” Louis shook his head. “I just told you I walked in on him cheating on me with his co-worker and you think I want him back?”

“It's not outside the realms of possibility,” Harry muttered, shrugging, “I just thought I'd ask.”

Harry looked away, biting his lip, a flash of doubt present in his expression. He looked as though he'd just revealed something about himself to Louis, though Louis had no idea what it was. Still, the fact that Harry would doubt his sincerity irked him.

“Harry, what's the matter?” Louis asked, concerned. “I feel like you're holding something back.”

Harry sighed.

“I want to say something to you, but I'm afraid it might be too much and I'll end up freaking you out.”

Louis' heart pounded in his chest. “If I promise not to freak out, will you tell me?”

“Maybe.”

“Harry, I promise not to freak out.”

Harry paused for a moment, internally battling with himself over whether or not he really wanted to divulge this secret. Then, suddenly, Louis heard his soft voice reply.

“It's just that sometimes I feel like I've known you for so much longer than a month, you know? I'm so happy when I'm around you. Talking to you is just so easy, like talking to Niall or Nick, people I've known for years.” Harry bit his lip, as though trying to keep the words in but ultimately powerless against them. Then, suddenly, he looked away. “But I'm just afraid sometimes that maybe I'm chasing something impossible with you. I feel like, I don't know, I want it too much or something? Like maybe I'm expecting too much from you.”

Louis shook his head, because Harry was wrong. Just so, so wrong.

“What do you mean 'expecting too much'?”

“I just mean that you were married, you know? You don't just get over that.” Harry shook his head, forcing the words out of his mouth, like it physically pained him to do so. “I just wonder sometimes if maybe you're not over it.”

Louis shook his head before Harry even finished the statement, “You're wrong. You're wrong. Harry, it's been years since my marriage ended, I'm over it. I'm over him.”

And it was true, Louis was over Darren. What he wasn't over was that sense of betrayal that had followed him ever since. What he wasn't over was the feeling of not being good enough for his husband to want to stay with him, so why would Harry want to stay with him? Why would anybody? With the way Harry was talking, it felt like he was right.

“Louis, you freaked out because you saw him in a club. You might be over him, but you guys clearly have some unfinished business. You said it yourself, you haven't seen him since your divorce.”

Louis was angry now, face red and breaths coming out in short bursts. Everything within him wanted to refute Harry's claims, but he was making so much sense that Louis was finding it hard to ignore. So he did what he always did when he felt cornered- he lashed out.

“You're one to talk about unfinished business,” Louis mumbled, taking his hand away from Harry's thigh.

“What?” Harry's eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You and Nick Grimshit, that's what it means,” Louis stood to his feet, too worked up to sit still, “maybe if you weren't off with him all night I never would've gone to the smoking area!”

“Nick is my friend,” Harry said, “don't talk about him like that. Also, don't blame me for you running into your ex and not being able to handle it!”

“Your friend? You really expect me to believe that? He's all over you Harry, even Niall can see it. Only a fucking idiot wouldn't know that he's crazy about you.”

“Are you saying I'm an idiot?”

“No, I'm not, because that would imply you don't see it. I think you do see it.”

“So what if I do? It doesn't change anything. I've never thought of Nick as anything other than a friend.” Harry peered up at Louis with wide, green eyes. “Besides, how could I have feelings for Nick when I'm already crazy about someone else?”

Louis groaned and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. This was too much. Too fucking much. Harry stood up then, sensing Louis' distress, and reached out to pull Louis' hands away from his eyes.

Louis' voice felt pathetic to his own ears as he whispered, “Please don't end this. I don't know why I'm acting this way.”

But he did know. Louis knew why he was paranoid and jealous, even though he'd never been like that before. He'd spent years building walls around his heart, trying to protect it, and it made giving his heart over to someone else impossible. Even though he knew Harry would take care of it, he just couldn't bring himself to take that risk, because what if?

“I just think you need to sort your own feelings out before I start saddling you with mine.”

“Harry...”

It was too late though, because Harry was turning around and picking his coat up from the couch, pulling it on over his sheer black shirt and skinny jeans. Even at twenty-eight years old, Harry looked like a graduate straight out of university. Louis felt old and tired standing in front of him. Used goods.

Louis said nothing as Harry walked over to him and cupped Louis' jaw in his hand, pressing a long, deep kiss to his mouth. It lingered for the longest, sweetest moment, and Louis' eyebrows puckered as a twinge of pain shot down through the center of his heart. When Harry broke the kiss, Louis felt words tumbling from his mouth before he had time to think about them.

“Do you know how terrifying it is for me,” Louis' voice cracked, “that when I'm with you I wish I'd never been married.”

Harry's whole body tensed at the words. Just when Louis thought he'd said the wrong thing, said too much, Harry's mouth covered his once again. This time the kiss was firm and insistent, tongue sliding into his mouth and curving around his own, hungrily. Louis reached up and wrapped his hands around the back of Harry's neck, lacing through the loose curls at the nape. When Harry eventually stopped the kiss, he kept his forehead pressed to Louis', as though desperately reluctant to pull away.

“Please don't leave.” Louis said, afraid that if Harry left it would be the last time they'd see each other.

“You need to figure out what you need.”

Louis opened his mouth and closed it, speechless. He wondered if this was just Harry's way of letting him down easy. He released his grip from the back of Harry's neck and said nothing as he walked towards the door.

“Goodbye then,” Louis muttered, coming out harsher than he'd intended, “I'll see you around?”

“Goodbye, Louis.”

And then, Harry was gone.

-*-

The next few weeks passed with no contact from Harry.

Louis, like always, threw himself into work to try and forget about him. Still, everything reminded him of soft curls and green eyes. Talking to Harry every evening had become almost second nature to Louis, so when something happened during his day, like an annoying client or a particularly hilarious incident, Louis' first thought was to tell Harry about it. When he realised he couldn't, everything within him ached.

The truth is, Louis was angry. Angry that Harry had given up on them so easily and all because Louis had gotten upset over running into his ex-husband. In moments of bitterness, Louis would fume to himself, thinking cruel thoughts about how it wasn't surprising that Harry had never been in a long term relationship before if that's how easily he gave up on something that could've been great. However, even as the thoughts passed through his mind, razor-sharp and cutting, Louis knew they weren't true. Harry was right to give Louis space, because it was only when he was alone that Louis realised just how raw the wounds of his past were. Wounds that he thought were long healed were now oozing open, bleeding everywhere and covering his life with their residue.

“You going to eat that?”

Liam leaned over and stole a chip from Louis' Chinese carton, dipping it into a bowl of curry sauce (also Louis') and popping it into his mouth. Louis blinked wordlessly, displeasure evident on his face, but Liam just smiled back.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Louis pressed a finger to his chin, feigning deep thought. “I'm having trouble remembering.”

“Do you really want to open that Pandora's Box?” Liam raised an eyebrow at Louis.

The veiled threat caused Louis to make a zip-and-lock motion across his mouth.

“Thought not.”

Louis, Zayn and Liam were partaking in their usual Friday night movie marathon, with lots of alcohol and junk food. Louis' glass coffee table was covered with empty bottles and foil trays filled with half-eaten Chinese food. Of course, Liam was slowly making his way through all the leftovers.

They had planned on watching _American Psycho_ , but Zayn's disc was broken, so they'd somehow ended up watching _When Harry Met Sally_ instead. Louis couldn't help thinking about his own Harry (or _not_ his Harry, as they case may be) and he kept checking his phone throughout the movie, making sure that he hadn't missed the telltale sound of an incoming text.

“That's not how women orgasm,” Liam said, shaking his head incredulously, “this movie is giving very high expectations for men to live up to.”

“Yes Liam, men are the true victims of the media's infliction of high expectations,” Zayn deadpanned. Louis couldn't stop himself from snickering into the back of his hand, earning a dark look from Liam.

“You know what I mean,” Liam muttered, taking a sip of _Corona._

“You know what the _real_ problem with this movie is? The suggestion that men and women can't be friends,” Louis gestured at the screen with his hand, “I mean, I have loads of friends who are girls.”

“Don't think that counts, mate,” Zayn said, “I mean, you're gay, so you're not going to have those feelings anyway.”

“Yeah, besides, how do you know they just see you as a friend? They might be secretly pining for you.” Liam said.

“Ya know, now that you mention it, I always thought your girlfriend had a bit of a secret yearning for me, Liam,” Louis said, wiggling his eyebrows, “a _curiosity,_ if you will.”

“Dream on, Tomlinson,” Liam huffed.

“It'd be Harriet Pinkman all over again,” Zayn laughed.

Liam's head shot up at the familiar name, cheeks reddening. “We do not speak of that!”

“Oh my God, Harriet Pinkman!” Louis threw back his head, “That's right, Liam, it wouldn't be the first time your girlfriend had a taste for Tommo.”

Harriet Pinkman was a blonde waif who was in Liam's course at university. They'd bonded over a mutual love of rock climbing and trashy TV shows, which had led to her becoming Liam's first girlfriend at university. Louis used to come downstairs and sit with them while they watched re-runs of Real Housewives, commenting on each drama with his usual dramatic flair, making Harriet laugh so much that beer came out of her nose. Then, one night at one of Louis' and Liam's house parties, Harriet cornered Louis and told him that she'd had a massive crush on him for months and that she didn't think things were working out with Liam. Of course, Louis had told her where to go and Liam had been pretty torn up about the whole thing, but it was a story they could laugh about now. Well, _Louis_ could laugh about it now, anyway.

“Sophia would never do that to me,” Liam pouted.

“Relax, Payne, I'm only winding you up,” Louis said, slapping a hand on Liam's shoulder.

“Yes well, it worked, now I'm wound up. Congratulations, you got what you wanted!”

Although Liam's words were tinged with annoyance, there was an undercurrent of amusement to his tone.

At that moment, a vibration reverberated throughout the room. Louis' ears pricked and he quickly turned to reach for his phone, checking for any missed messages. None. When he looked up, Zayn was peering at him with a strange look in his eye, while Liam sat typing out a reply to the message he'd just received. Louis' body felt tense, like he'd just been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

“Mate, why don't you just text him?” Zayn asked, voice low and careful.

“And say what exactly?” Louis muttered, bitterly. “Zayn, he's the one that ended things. He wrote me off. You know, _exactly_ what you told me not to do to him? He did it to me.”

“From what you told me it seemed like he was giving you space, more than anything,” Zayn said, “sounds pretty sensible, to be honest.”

“Oh, please...” Louis rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“That was clearly him brushing me off,” Louis threw up one hand and let it fall, “he was just trying to let me down easy by throwing me some lines about 'space' and 'closure'. You think I don't know that? I've given people those lines, Z!”

“You're a proper wingnut, Louis,” Zayn said.

“What are we talking about?” Liam's head snapped up from his phone, signing in to the conversation.

“Louis' love life,” Zayn supplied.

“Oh, Harry then?”

“Yup.”

“You guys just have me all figured out, don't you!” Louis cried.

“Right, talk me through this again,” Liam sat forward on his seat, turning his body towards Louis, “what _exactly_ did Harry say to you? Word for word. _Exactly._ Not 'Louis Tomlinson's version of what Harry said', but what he _actually_ said.”

“He _said_ that I wasn't over my ex-husband and that I needed to sort my head out, basically,” Louis snapped, “couldn't be more clear than that.”

Liam and Zayn stared at Louis, neither one of them daring to say a word.

“What?” Louis mumbled, immensely suspicious of the quiet that had descended between his two friends.

“Well...” Zayn.

“Well what?”

“Maybe he's right, Louis,” Liam finished, once it became evident that Zayn was not willing to complete the sentence.

“ _What_?”

“Maybe you do need to sort your head out. I mean, it's been a long time, Louis. I know what happened hurt you a lot, but you had a really good thing with Harry.”

Zayn nodded along, silently agreeing with Liam's assessment. Louis just wanted to punch a wall.

“I _know_ I had a good thing with Harry,” Louis said through gritted teeth, “I would have _liked_ to have pursued that for a bit longer before being _dumped_!”

“Louis, we're your friends, OK?” Zayn said, “We're here for you. We want you to be happy. But Jesus Christ if you say you were dumped _one more time_ I am going to swing for you.”

“Yeah, man, Harry was so into you. He never would've dumped you. How can you not see that?” Liam said.

“You never even met him,” Louis mumbled, like a petulant child who couldn't accept the truth.

“I didn't _have_ to meet him. Louis, he texted you one hundred times in one day! I know because I counted the beeps on your phone!”

“You counted the beeps on my phone?”

“Well it became hard to hold a conversation since you kept checking out halfway through!” Liam huffed. “I had to do something to keep me occupied.”

Louis groaned and slowly lowered his head into his hands. He really didn't need to hear about how perfect Harry was when he hadn't spoken to him in a week. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“We're not saying this to upset you, Lou, it's just...I haven't seen you that happy in years.”

That's because he hadn't been that happy in years.

“Then why did it have to end?” Louis mumbled into his palms.

Silence.

“Lou, did you ever _tell_ him how much you liked him?” Liam asked quietly.

Louis pulled his head up, irritated. “Of course I did!”

“When?”

Louis' words sputtered out of his mouth like an over-boiling kettle, “I-wha-I...It was _implied_!”

Liam's eyes shot open, “ _Implied_?”

“Yes! Implied! I spoke to him every day and we kissed! It was implied that I liked him!”

“It was implied that you were attracted to him,” Zayn said, pointedely, “you kiss one-night-stands too, doesn't always mean what you think it means.”

“I told him, OK? He knew and he walked out the door,” Louis shook his head, “story of my life, right? I trust someone and they just...”

Zayn and Liam stared at him, then glanced at each other.

“I think that's the problem, Louis,” Liam said.

“What? That men are scum?”

“No, that you _think_ all men are scum,” Zayn interrupted, exasperation clear on his face, “Louis, you insist that he 'wrote you off', but I know you and I know you wrote Harry off before you even allowed yourself to actually like him!”

“Why would I _do that_?”

“Because you're scared of being hurt again!”

Louis paused, eyes wide as Zayn's words lingered in the air. Liam looked wildly uncomfortable, brown eyes darting around the empty room, unsure where to look. It felt like the whole world had gone still. Like Louis had reached the end of a labyrinth that he'd spent years trying to navigate. Of course, Louis already knew Zayn's words were true on some level, but hearing them spoken aloud by his friend and outside the realms of his own head was an entirely different experience altogether.

“I'm sorry, Louis,” Zayn shrank back, feathering his fingers through his shaggy hair, self-consciously, “It's just...I've tried to be careful with you for so long, but I won't stand by and watch you let go of something that makes you so happy.”

“I don't know what to do,” Louis whispered, suddenly overcome with a feeling of powerlessness over his own life, “I don't know how to fix myself.”

“Only you can figure it out, Lou,” Liam said, “but we're here if you need us, you know?”

“I know,” Louis smiled, softly.

A moment of understanding passed between them all. They continued to watch _When Harry met Sally_ in silence. It was the scene where Billy Crystal was telling Meg Ryan about all the things he loved about her, and Louis' eyes watered even though he didn't really know why. He wiped angrily at his lashes with the back of his hand, letting out a quiet sniffle as he watched. Liam and Zayn cast him a sideways glance, but didn't comment. He appreciated that.

It wasn't until that night, when Liam and Zayn had left and Louis was cleaning up the empty bottles and chinese containers, that Louis heard his phone buzz. He rushed over to the glass coffee table and picked it up with shaky hands, heart pounding in his chest. However, when he opened the text, it wasn't who he expected. The name attached to the message caused his heart to stop.

_Darren._

Louis had to take a moment to collect himself before he could read the message. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he tried to ignore the niggling voice that told him that if he was really over his past, this wouldn't affect him as much as it did.

_**Hi Louis. I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, but I haven't stopped thinking about you since we ran into each other. I really want to see you. It can be wherever and whenever you want, just pick the time and the place and I'll be there. Please.** _

Louis' body felt numb as he set down his phone on the glass coffee table and walked away. It stayed there for days. Louis would pass it in the morning, drinking his coffee, taking in the black case with eerie calmness. He'd go to work, come home, eat his dinner and the phone would be there, taunting him. Daring him. At one point, Zayn even stopped by Louis' apartment to ask why he hadn't been replying to any of his texts. Louis told him that he'd been too busy to respond. Zayn knew he was lying, but did not inquire further.

On the third day, Louis left his apartment for work (once again leaving his phone on the coffee table) and was making his way down Exeter Street when he spotted a familiar figure. Louis' head snapped around and his eyes immediately connected with sharp cheekbones framed with curls, dressed head-to-toe in a black suit. Louis stood, still and dumbstruck in the middle of the footpath, watching an oblivious Harry like a real life Peeping Tom.

Harry held a cup of coffee in his hand, walking and talking with a handsome, dark haired man. They looked like they were on their way to work, both dressed pristinely, Harry's hair more tamed than usual. Louis' mouth dropped open. Harry looked even better than he remembered. It made him ache to know that the man was so close: close enough to walk over and talk to, but far enough away to not be immediately aware of Louis' presence.

Harry and the man paused outside a huge, stone-walled building and Harry smiled as he held open the door to let his colleague through. Then, just as Harry was about to follow, he paused and looked up. The gesture seemed deliberate, like Harry had known Louis had been staring all along (even though Louis knew that was impossible), and they were now gazing at each across the road, eyes connected through lines of busy traffic. Harry's lips parted, face dropping the beautiful smile that had lit it up mere moments before, and Louis' heart bruised against his rib cage. Hours seemed to pass like this, the two of them just staring at each other, neither sure what to do next.

Slowly, uncertainly, Louis raised his hand and began to wave weakly. His whole body felt constricted, like those dreams he had where he was trying to run and his legs felt like they were stuck in quicksand, but he maintained eye contact with Harry. Louis couldn't decipher Harry's reaction from the distance between them, all he knew was that Harry did not wave back before he walked through the open doors of the building, following his colleague. The interaction had taken less than five minutes, but Louis' whole day was ruined because of it. In fact, it had made him downright _pissed_.

All day Louis seethed over Harry's blatant blanking, rushing through his work with red-eyed rage. When he got home, he'd worked himself up so much over it that he immediately grabbed his phone from the coffee table and opened a new message.

_To: Harry_

_Can you please tell me what the fuck that was today? Are you trying to hurt me?_

Louis slammed the phone down and began making his dinner with angry immediacy. As the pasta boiled in the saucepan, Louis' phone vibrated across the room. He left it for a few minutes, allowing himself to calm down, then slowly walked over and peered at the reply.

_Of course I'm not trying to hurt you. How could you think that?_

Louis' body trembled as he tried to control himself. _How could he think that_? How could he not?

_You know why, Harry. I thought more of you than that._

Harry's response came almost immediately.

_You're not the only one who runs the risk of being hurt, you know..._

Louis shook his head, confused by the statement.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

_It means I have to think about myself too._

Louis couldn't contain his own frustration, so he let out a ragged shout into the air.

_If you don't want me, just say! Stop giving me all these cryptic lines._

Harry didn't respond for another hour, leaving Louis to eat his dinner and watch terrible television, all while the silence of his phone burned his eardrums. When it finally did buzz, Louis practically jumped on it.

_I do want you. I just don't want half of you._

Louis' whole body felt cold. His eyes scanned over the words, still as vague and cryptic as ever, before he eventually exited out of Harry's messages and scanned his eyes down the list of missed messages he'd gotten in the days he'd abandoned his phone. There were a couple from Zayn, Liam and his mum, as well as a few people from work who were asking him dumb questions about meaningless clients. Then, right there at the bottom, was the message from Darren. Louis opened it slowly, taking in the words, fingers shaking as he typed out a response.

_The Ivy. Seven o'clock tomorrow night. If you can't come, delete my number._

Louis closed the phone and ignored it for the rest of the night. When he finally checked it again before going to bed, there was one new message.

_I'll be there._

Louis tried to ignore the swell of some foreign emotion in his chest, rising back to life.

-*-

As Louis stood outside the entrance of The Ivy (a rooftop bar in the center of London, which Louis and Darren used to visit regularly during happier times), looking up at the familiar stained glass door, he couldn't help but think about all the events of his life that had led him to this moment. He thought about the day he'd first met Darren, in the student union during Freshers week, both young and stupid and impossibly crazy about each other. They'd spent their time at university wrapped up together, two peas in a pod, and Louis had truly thought they'd be together forever. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd be standing here now, outside the bar they used to always go, with dread in his stomach at the thought of seeing the man he'd once vowed to spend the rest of his life with.

Louis took a deep breath and stepped through the doors.

He took the elevator up to the roof, heart jumping into his throat. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn back, but as the doors sprang open and the soft lilt of jazz music filled the air, Louis felt like he'd been transported into the past. The cold, London breeze whisked around him as he passed through the busy bar, searching for the familiar face of his ex-husband. Louis knew exactly where to find him.

There, perched in the corner booth where they'd always sat, was Darren. He hadn't spotted Louis yet, so Louis took a moment to observe him. He looked good, by all means, sitting in snug blue jeans and a tight sweater. Blonde and tan. Louis' type. Only now it didn't feel like his type. He closed his eyes and imagined the sensation of chocolate curls weaving through his fingers, stark against pale skin. _So lovely._

When Louis opened his eyes again, Darren had spotted him. Louis walked over and quietly sat down, taking a sick thrill in seeing Darren sweat.

“Hi,” Darren's voice was thick with nerves, “how are you?”

“Better,” Louis pulled the sleeves of his jumper over his hands and fidgeted with a stray thread, “you?”

“Glad,” Darren said, “that you agreed to meet me. I'm glad.”

“I'm not.”

“Right, of course not.” Darren's face turned red. Louis couldn't remember ever seeing Darren look so weak. So utterly pathetic. It almost made Louis feel sorry for him. “I got you a drink.”

Louis looked down at the glass of wine in front of him. He took a sip and a sudden flashback of his first date with Harry entered his mind. It was the same wine. Louis had never liked wine, he thought, and he suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that he'd never liked wine. _Darren_ had liked wine, and Louis drank it because Darren drank it.

“Good day?” Darren asked, shifting uncomfortably under the awkward silence.

Louis sighed and rubbed his face, “Look, you wanted to talk, so talk. I'm here, I'm listening. Don't ask me about my bloody day!”

Darren sat in stunned silence, eyes searching Louis' face. Louis wondered if he was looking for the old Louis, the man he once knew, but that Louis was gone. At one point in time Louis had mourned the loss of his old self -his past self- but now, sitting here, he wondered if that Louis was ever really him at all.

“OK,” Darren sighed, shaking his head, “I just...I don't know what to say.”

“Just tell me what you want from me,” Louis said, “because I'm fucking tired, yeah? Aren't you?”

Darren paused.

“I want you back.”

The words echoed in Louis' ears, barely registering at first. When they finally did, Louis had to stop himself from balking. That...he had not been expecting that.

“You have got to be kidding,” Louis said.

“I'm not,” Darren's eyes had taken on a manic urgency, “Louis, I want you back. I do! How many times do I have to tell you that I regret what I did? I'm _sorry_. I've been so fucking sorry ever since it happened!”

“And how many times do I have to tell you _I don't care_ if you're sorry!” Louis hissed.

“I love you,” Darren muttered, eyes on the table, unable to look at Louis as he said the words.

“If you loved me you never would have done what you did,” Louis said.

“Well then why are you here?” Darren asked, eyelashes flicking up to meet Louis' gaze.

God, Louis was so tired. So tired of this neverending circle. He wanted out.

“Closure.”

Darren's eyebrows knotted, “Closure?”

“Yes. Closure from you and from the whole sorry mess that was our marriage.” Louis said, and once again he was filled with some foreign emotion that he'd only ever felt in his distant memories. Fearlessness. “I wanted to come here and look at you and tell you that I'm done. I'm done with you and I'm ready to move on. I don't want to walk down a street and dread seeing your face. I don't want to avoid this bar because it reminds me of you. I don't want to ruin my relationships because I can't stop being angry with you for breaking my trust. I don't really want to think about you at all, in fact.”

Louis sat back in his seat, arms folded. Darren's lips parted, like he'd just been slapped.

“Is this about that guy at the club?” Darren muttered. “The long-haired guy?”

Louis rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from laughing. Typical Darren, self-centered prick.

“No, this is about _me_ , funnily enough. Me telling you that I'm done,” Louis paused for a moment, then continued, “also, that 'long-haired guy' just happens to be the guy that I'm seeing at the moment. So yes, in a way, it is about him.”

Now it was Darren's turn to laugh. Louis' eyes narrowed.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“Just, didn't think he'd be your type,” Darren shrugged, “you're really seeing him?”

Louis stood up quickly, face hot. He flexed and unflexed his hands, unsure whether to punch the man in front of him or flip the table. Instead, he took a deep breath and raised his chin.

“You're right,” Louis said, “he's not my usual type. My type of guys are self-centered idiots who don't give a fuck about me. I think I've learned my lesson though.”

Louis picked up the remainder of his wine and threw it over Darren's stubbled face, not waiting around to see his reaction before he turned on his heel and walked towards the elevator.

As he made his way back out of the bar, Louis felt the twinge of a smile perking the corner of his lips. By the time he'd made his way towards the end of the street, he was beaming; happier and lighter than he'd felt in years. It felt like a flock of birds had been released into his chest cavity, filling up the space where his lungs were, making him feel breathless with elation.

When he turned the corner and bumped straight into Niall, he felt like it was a sign from God.

“Oh, Louis, how are you, man?” Niall asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was clear from Niall's expression that Harry had told him exactly what had happened between them. Still, Louis felt more determined and strong than he'd felt in years, and he knew what he wanted. Suddenly, thoughts of Harry filled his mind. The need to see him became immediately overwhelming.

“I'm good, Niall, I'm good,” Louis said, “listen, I need you to tell me where Harry lives.”

Niall raised an eyebrow, then bit his lip. “I don't know if that's a good idea, mate.”

“Niall,” Louis could hear the plead in his own voice, but he didn't care, “please. I have to talk to him, like, right now.”

“Louis, I think he's just not ready to speak to you, to be honest. He was pretty upset after, you know, everything.”

“Niall...”

Niall's eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at Louis carefully. “You promised me you wouldn't hurt him.”

“I didn't,” Louis shook his head, shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh, “I didn't _mean_ to.”

“It just fucking sucks. I really thought you guys...” Niall trailed off, “nothing. Never mind, doesn't matter.”

“I want to make it right,” Louis whispered.

“I'm sorry, Lou,” Niall said, looking genuinely torn up, “but Harry's my friend and I just...I can't, OK? Sorry.”

With that, Niall passed Louis and continued along the street, never looking back.

-*-

The next two weeks passed slowly, like treading through a thick sludge. Louis' days were spent working and returning home to an empty apartment, only occasionally interacting with Liam and Zayn. Louis had told his friends about what had happened with Darren, earning him a few hardy back slaps and a cheer of congratulations. At one point, Zayn had taken him aside and asked him if this meant that Louis would be seeing Harry again, to which Louis' face had fallen. He told Zayn about how he'd run into Niall and how the Irish man had said that Harry didn't want to hear from him. Zayn's mouth had fallen open.

“What? But why?”

Louis shrugged, “I guess he just...needs time.”

Even as the words fell from Louis' mouth, he didn't believe them. In truth, Louis had given up hoping for Harry to contact him, and he didn't want to pester Harry with texts and phone calls if Harry wasn't interested.

“Oh God, Louis, I'm sorry,” Zayn shook his head, as though everything he'd ever thought true had just been disproved, “he hasn't even tried to contact you? At all?”

Louis shook his head, trying to train his face into a small smile, “It's fine, Z, honest. I mean, plenty more fish in the sea, right?”

Zayn smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes, “Course, Lou.”

They didn't talk about it again after that.

One night, when Louis had returned home from the office after a particularly stressful day, Liam and Zayn were waiting for him by the front door.

“We're taking you out!” Liam announced.

Louis barely gave him a glance as he unlocked his door and proceeded to lead the way up to his apartment. Zayn and Liam followed behind, Liam continuing to talk about what club they could go to, oblivious to the fact that Louis was not in the mood to go out. When they arrived at his apartment, Louis opened the door and casually walked into the kitchen, switching on the kettle and carrying out his usual post-work routine, blatantly ignoring Liam's 'going out' talk. Of course, there was only so long Louis could blank Liam before Liam became impatient and demanded attention.

“Louis you're not even listening!” Liam said, turning to Zayn and gesturing towards Louis, searching for back up. “Zayn, can you talk to him, please? Tell him to come out!”

“Louis, come out,” Zayn said, folding his arms, “seriously, you need to have some fun.”

“I am having fun,” Louis said, raising his cup of tea, “tea is fun. Slippers are fun. Doing nothing is _fun_. Accept me for who I am, guys.”

“ Come on, man, this isn't you!” Liam declared, “You need to get out of your own head!”

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, angry at himself for allowing Liam's words to actually sink in. He stood beside the breakfast bar, hand on his hip, then let out a long sigh.

“Fine,” he groaned, “but we are _not_ going to Club Inferno. I went there with...I don't like it there.”

“I knew you were listening!” Liam said, triumphantly. “Fine, we don't have to go there. How about one of the clubs in the student area? Been a while!”

“Aren't we a little old for-”

“Louis...don't. We are not too old for anything!” Liam said, shaking his head.

Louis raised his hands, “OK, whatever you say.”

“Settled then!”

Louis poured himself a cup of tea, taking a sip before heading towards his bedroom. “Fine, just let me get changed and then we'll be off, yeah?”

“Great!”

Louis got changed quickly, not giving much consideration to his outfit. He allowed himself to be dragged along by Zayn and Liam as they left his apartment and headed towards some club that Zayn said was ' _the place to be_ '. Louis had never heard of it.

The night passed by in a flow of alcohol, flashing lights and side-splitting laughter. With each shot, Louis began to feel more like himself, allowing all the worries he'd had about Harry and Darren and _his life_ to ebb away, until all that was left was the moment. It felt like how Louis used to live; never worrying about what the future might hold, just taking each moment as it came, relishing every second of his life as if it were his last. Somewhere in the middle of the night, Louis began to feel a little bit like his old self again. The person he was before Darren and the divorce.

At the end of the night, Liam called a taxi and they all piled in, laughing and giggling like they were university students again. As they sat in the back seat, Zayn turned to Louis with a wide smile and said,

“I'm so glad we went out tonight, Louis. It's been a while since I seen you look so...”

“So...what?” Louis asked, eyes crinkled with mirth.

“So much like yourself,” Zayn finished, dark eyes glinting under the glow of the passing streetlights that flickered through the windows. “You know, the Louis before... _everything_.”

Louis nodded, well aware of what Zayn was referring to. When they finally pulled up outside Louis' apartment, he hugged Liam and Zayn goodbye and tumbled out of the taxi, feeling just a little bit better about his life. Maybe he didn't have everything he thought he would have and maybe he didn't have Harry, but he had enough.

Louis flicked on the lights of his apartment and settled down on the sofa, kicking his feet up and inspecting the room. The bare, white walls irritated him. He didn't want to live in this blank space anymore. For years it had felt like Louis' life was on pause and now he wanted to press play. Start again.

Just as the thought occurred to him, Louis' phone beeped in his pocket. It wasn't all that late, just midnight, and he wondered if maybe it was Liam texting him to tell him that the night was still young and they were going to hit another bar. However, when Louis looked at his screen, an unknown number popped up. Louis frowned and pressed enter, casting his eyes over the message. The more he read, the shallower his breaths became.

_Hey Louis, it's Niall here. I got your number from Harry's phone. Listen, I know I said I couldn't go behind Harry's back, but I'm sick of this. I want my friend back._

There, at the bottom of the text, was Harry's address. John Adams Street. Louis' heart thumped as he sat up straight on his seat, feet tapping on the floor as he bit his lip in thought. The clock on his phone read 00:15 a.m.. Not late for a weekend. What if Harry was out though? The longer Louis thought, the more nervous he became, until suddenly he couldn't cope with it anymore. He had to do something.

Louis quickly pulled himself from the sofa and grabbed his keys, not giving himself enough time to overthink the decision he'd just made. His thoughts were frantic as he locked the door to his flat and ran downstairs towards the lobby, then out into the street. He walked for a few minutes before grabbing a passing taxi, calling out the street name of Harry's house straight from the message that Niall had sent him.

He was going to do this.

-*-

As Louis stood outside Harry's apartment building, scanning his eyes along the list of names beside each apartment, he couldn't help but think about what a stupid decision he'd made. After all, it was fucking twelve-thirty at night. What person in their right mind would think this was a good idea? Still, Louis' system was buzzing with alcohol, enough to make him less self-conscious about the boldness of this gesture. _Fuck it_ , he thought as he pressed the buzzer for Harry's flat and held his breath.

Time seemed to stand still as he waited for a response. Then, just as Louis was about to give up and go home, the intercom crackled to life.

“Hello?” Harry's voice was rough and ragged, like he'd just woken up. A flash of guilt snapped through Louis as he wondered if he'd just woken Harry up.

“Erm...Hello?” Harry repeated, voice lifting in question.

Now or never, Louis thought.

“Hi.”

Silence filled the air, the only sign of Harry's presence being his soft breaths over the line. Louis' heart felt heavy in his chest. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, trying to think of something to say. When nothing came, he just sighed.

“How did you get my address?” Harry finally asked, sounding as nervous as Louis felt.

“Niall gave it to me.”

“Oh...”

For a moment Louis thought they were going to remain like this, talking through the intercom all night because they were both too afraid to speak to each other in person. Everything was so confused, Louis didn't even know if he could make it right, but he wanted to at least try.

The door buzzed open. Louis did not hesitate in stepping through.

When Louis reached Harry's flat, Harry was waiting for him at the door, hair loose and falling around his shoulders. Louis had to force himself to remain calm at the sight of him, silently cursing his racing heart and swooping stomach as they both went wild. As Harry's eyes scanned over Louis's face, Louis couldn't help but wonder if Harry felt the same way. If he did, he hid it well. With a small gesture of his head, Harry beckoned Louis inside, shutting the door behind him.

Harry's apartment was luxe. Louis should've expected as much, considering Harry was a high-flying lawyer that worked on Exeter street and wore expensive suits. Still, seeing it was a different matter altogether. In stark contrast to the feeble decor of Louis' apartment, Harry's walls were adorned with colour; framed portraits and vintage lamps covering every inch of bare wall. No wonder Harry had looked so surprised at Louis' meek furnishings, when Harry practically lived at the bottom of a genie lamp.

Louis peered over at Harry, only just noticing that the other man was dressed in jogging bottoms and a gray top.

“I'm sorry if I woke you,” Louis muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment by looking at the floor.

“You didn't wake me,” Harry said, though Louis wasn't sure if he was lying to be polite, “honestly, it's fine.”

A heavy awkwardness hung in the air between them.

“So, Niall told you where I lived, huh?” Harry asked, a small smirk of amusement on his lips. “Figures.”

“We _did_ bond over interfering friends,” Louis attempted humour, “can't expect them to change overnight.”

“I suppose not.” Harry said nothing for a moment, then, quietly, he whispered. “Why are you here?”

Louis exhaled shakily, “I wanted to see you.”

“OK...”

Louis felt like they were going around in circles. Harry reached up and pinched his bottom lip between his fingers in thought, staring at some unknown spot in the corner of the room.

“Look, I know this is really _really_ presumptuous of me,” Louis said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Just showing up out of the blue and expecting you to see me, even though you made it clear that you didn't really want to talk.”

Harry's eyes flicked up towards Louis', focusing on him with such intensity that Louis almost wished he'd kept his eyes on the floor.

“I thought- I didn't think you would...” Harry breathed out slowly, “I can't believe you're here.”

Louis couldn't figure out if Harry was pleased or not by his arrival. For a moment, Louis wondered if he was right in his assumption that Harry had just been trying to let him down easy before. Maybe he was destined to be just another face in Harry's contact list, but either way he had to find out.

“Are you...are you OK with me being here?” Louis asked, voice small and hopeful.

Harry's eyebrows puckered in sympathy and he let out a tiny exhale, “Louis, of course I am.”

Still, there was something there behind Harry's eyes. Something he wasn't saying. Louis tried to ignore it.

“I'm sorry I just showed up,” Louis said, embarrassed by his own stupidity, “I know it must be a little overwhelming, but when Niall texted me I just couldn't...I had to see you. I had to speak to you in person.”

Harry kept his eyes on the ground, shaking his head slowly. “And say what?”

Louis couldn't help but notice the bitter edge to Harry's tone, as though Louis came bearing bad tidings. Louis couldn't understand why Harry was so reluctant to talk to him.

“I just wanted to tell you that you were right.”

“I was?” Harry's eyes flicked over Louis' face. “About what?”

“About me needing space...and time. You were right,” Louis huffed out a laugh, “you knew I needed it more than _I_ did.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, slowly digesting this information. When he didn't speak, Louis took it as his queue to continue.

“I guess I just- I'd spent so much time ignoring my feelings about the divorce,” Louis took a deep breath. He could do this, damn it. “You giving me space was what I needed. It gave me time to think about everything, you know?”

Harry looked at him steadily, his expression neutral. Louis couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“I spoke to Darren,” Louis muttered, fidgeting with his fingers, “it was the same day I ran into Niall. I arranged to meet with him so that we could talk...about everything.”

Harry let out a soft breath. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

They held each others gaze for a long moment. Louis felt like something massive was hanging between them, ready to unfold at any moment. He didn't know if it was something good or something bad. Harry looked on the verge of running away. Just as Louis began to speak, Harry spoke too.

“Harry, I-”

“Fuck, I knew it.”

Louis blinked, “Knew what?”

Harry paced the length of the kitchen, long arms folded across his chest. “I knew this would happen, this is why I didn't want to see you, damn it.”

“I don't understand. What did you think would happen?”

Harry stopped and shook his head, gesturing for Louis to continue talking, “Nothing. Nothing. Just...come on, say what you came to say. I think we both need to hear it.”

Louis felt like he had fallen down a rabbit hole and straight into wonderland. What was Harry talking about? Louis walked over to Harry, who was biting his thumbnail with panic in his eyes.

“Harry, what's wrong? You're-”

“Louis, just say it!” Harry said, shrugging off Louis' concern.

“Say _what_?”

“Say you're going back to Darren,” Harry said, eyes sharp and focused.

Louis recoiled, pulling his hands back. “Is _that_ why you think I'm here?”

Harry's face dropped. “Well...yeah.”

“Harry,” Louis threw up his hands, “I _told_ you that was never going to happen!”

“I know, but...I just thought, when you said that you were thinking- that I was right about...” Harry's brow puckered in the middle, “you mean you're not going back to him?”

Louis sighed and ran his hands down his face, “No. That is the complete opposite reason for why I'm here. Is that why you're being so weird?”

“It's just, that night when you ran into him at the club,” Harry mumbled, “you were so... _affected_ , you know? It just seemed like you weren't over him at all. I thought...I thought for sure that if I gave you time, you'd go back to him. You said that I was right, and that's what I thought, so...”

Louis stepped closer to Harry, crowding into his space. Harry looked so soft and helpless, standing in his loungewear, eyes wide and green and _so lovely_. Even though Harry was significantly bigger than Louis in every way, Louis felt so protective of him. Louis placed his fingers lightly under Harry's chin, urging him to look up.

“Harry, you _were_ right, but not about that,” Louis whispered, and it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say, “I wasn't over being betrayed. I wasn't over the feeling of not being good enough. I went to see him so that I could confront him in person and tell him that I don't want him in my life anymore, including in my head. I told him that I don't want to think about him anymore. I want to let him go, you know?”

Harry's eyes scanned Louis' face, glittering with surprise. “You really told him that?”

Louis laughed, “I did more than that. I threw my drink over him.”

Harry pulled back with wide eyes, then slowly broke out into a grin as he began to laugh. “You _did_?”

“Yes,” Louis nodded, “it was the most cathartic feeling, I'd recommend it to anyone who's ever been cheated on.”

Harry laughed for a moment longer before biting his lip, eyes falling from the floor then back to Louis', as if unsure where to look.

“What are you thinking?” Louis asked.

Harry said nothing for a moment. The silence continued for long enough that a tiny prick of panic began to swell in Louis' chest. Then, quietly, Harry whispered,

“I lied to you.”

Louis stomach dropped. “What?”

“I lied to you.”

“OK...about what?” Louis tried not to jump to conclusions.

“I told you that I wanted to give you time and space, but that's not entirely the truth,” Harry said, “the truth is, I was scared.”

“Scared? Of me?”

“Kind of,” Harry smiled, aware of the ridiculousness of it. “I know how it feels, you know?”

“Know how what feels?” Louis asked, risking a step closer to Harry. He felt like any sudden movement would make the younger man run off without a second glance. “Tell me.”

“You said you weren't over the feeling of not being good enough,” Harry muttered, “I know how that feels.”

Louis reached out and took Harry's hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, then swallowed, “Uhm, you know the way I said that I'd never been in a long-term relationship before?” Harry asked. Louis nodded. “Well, I kind of was. I mean, it lasted six months, which I don't consider long-term, but it was pretty intense, y'know?”

“How so?”

“Well, we were just crazy about each other. Like, stupidly infatuated. I genuinely thought we were going to be together for a long, long time. Everything happened so quickly, we moved in together soon after we met. Christ, we were talking about kids!”

Louis desperately tried to keep his expression neutral. He had no right to be so possessive, but it was difficult because it felt like Harry was his. Louis didn't want Harry to talk about being with anyone for a long, long time if that person wasn't him. It was stupidly hypocritical though, because Louis had been _married_. He had promised to spend the rest of his life with Darren, vowing it in front of all his family and friends.

Before Louis could follow the thought any further, something suddenly occurred to him.

“He went back to his ex, didn't he? That guy you were with?” Louis asked, but the answer was already clear from the expression on Harry's face.

“Yeah,” he nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips, “he told me they'd been talking and he wanted to try to work things out.”

“I'm sorry,” Louis mumbled.

“S'Okay.”

“That guy was obviously crazy,” Louis whispered, shaking his head, because he just couldn't fathom it, “why would anybody leave you for someone else?”

Harry shuffled closer, moving himself across the couch until his knees were pressed to Louis'. They stared at each other for a moment, drinking each other in, until finally Harry replied,

“I feel the same way about your ex-husband. I just...I can't imagine. I don't understand.”

Harry said the words with such genuine bafflement that it forced a small laugh from Louis. Harry beamed as he watched the smile grow on Louis' face, his eyes soft and full of fondness. When Louis stopped laughing, Harry looked at him with a conflicted expression.

“When my ex left me, I felt like I wasn't good enough to stay with, because he didn't want me and I thought we were in love. Then when I met you...” Harry shook his head, as though searching for the right words, “the way you reacted when you saw your ex-husband. I just felt like it was all going to happen again.”

Louis tugged Harry's hand and pulled him into his arms, encircling him slowly, rubbing the soft fabric of Harry's t-shirt underneath his palms. Louis could feel Harry's hands on his back, pulling him closer, thumbs digging into the space between Louis' shoulder blades. Louis pulled back slightly, just enough to look Harry in the eyes. They both smiled, breaking into soft giggles as they peered at each other. Louis cleared the hair away from Harry's face, holding his dimpled cheeks in his palms.

“Louis,” Harry licked his lips, suddenly serious, “I've never felt this way about someone before.”

Louis' heart picked up speed in his chest. This was what he was hoping for when he came to Harry's, but now that he was getting it he felt petrified. He stayed perfectly still, holding Harry's gaze.

“Me neither.”

The words were barely out of Louis' mouth before Harry's lips were on his, covering them completely. Louis' fingers hung onto the material of Harry's t-shirt, digging into his waist, pulling Harry towards him as though aching to close any space between them. Louis felt Harry's hot breaths against his skin as the sound of tongues and lips filled the quietness in the air around them. There was something so intimate about that sound, heard only by them, that made Louis feel almost drunk on it.

It was this feeling of lustful inebriation (as well as the slight presence of literal inebriation) that caused Louis' hands to sweep down along the planes of Harry's body until they were resting on the back of his thighs, urging him upwards. Harry took the hint, propelling himself onto Louis' body with a tiny jump, wrapping his legs around Louis' waist, never breaking the kiss.

Louis carried Harry over to the sofa at the side of the room, almost tripping over his own feet several times on the way, causing Harry to chuckle into his mouth. When they finally got to the sofa, Louis lay Harry down on the soft cushions and hovered over him, taking a moment to admire Harry's lithe body laid out beneath him. When Harry looked up at him, a glint of amusement shone in his eyes as he smiled. He looked like a mischievious school boy.

“Don't look at me like that,” Louis said, grabbing his heart in a dramatic display.

“Like what?” Harry bit his tongue between his teeth, as though trying desperately to hold back his own delight.

Louis leaned down and spoke each word between soft kisses, “Like you're a school boy and I'm your teacher and you've just been very bad.”

“That sounds so perverse,” Harry said, though his tone implied he was anything but repelled by the idea.

“You'd be my naughty final year student,” Louis chuckled, lips trailing along the stubble of Harry's chin, “who hasn't handed in his assignment on time.”

Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Louis' neck, pulling him closer, brushing their lips together and arching into the kiss.

The longer they lay there, the more frantic the kiss became, as though they were pouring all of their feelings over the past few weeks into it. Louis could feel Harry's hard length under the soft material of his jogging bottoms, pressing against Louis' thigh, begging for attention. Louis reached down between their bodies and pressed the heel of his hand over the bulge, feeling his own dick harden as Harry let out a sharp gasp at the contact.

“Louis, _Christ_ ,” Harry's lips pressed firmer to Louis', almost bruising in their fervor. Words began falling from Harry's mouth as Louis slowly massaged him. “Wanted this so bad...want you...”

Louis pressed his hips down against Harry's thigh, allowing Harry to feel his hardness. Harry slowly began to move his thigh in tiny circles, eliciting a groan from Louis as he pulled back to look Harry in the eyes. When Louis peered down at Harry's face, the other man's eyes were closed, lips moist and parted, soft breaths falling from his opened mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry you look so...”

Harry opened his eyes, lashes flicking up and down against red cheeks. “So do you.”

Louis licked his lips, stilling his hand, tracing his finger along the outline of Harry's cock through his jogging bottoms.

“Can I?” He asked finally, walking his fingers up to the elastic waistband.

Harry's eyes glazed over as he slowly nodded, allowing his head to drop back against the armrest of the sofa.

Without any hesitation, Louis shuffled down, hooked his fingers into the band and pulled, revealing the thick length of Harry's dick in one quick motion. Louis' eyes widened at the sight; red and leaking and so perfect he could've been staring at the Mona Lisa. He circled his hand around the base, causing Harry to buck up, then flattened his free hand on Harry's hip bone to settle him.

“Careful, love,” Louis whispered, kissing the glistening tip, “I'm going to take care of you now.”

With that, Louis sank down.

Harry could barely keep himself still as he writhed under Louis' mouth, each slow lick causing tiny, desperate moans to escape from his parted lips. Louis could've listened to those sounds all day. He curled his free hand under Harry's thigh and squeezed the muscle, causing Harry to bend his knees and spread his legs wider. All the while, Louis continued to work Harry's length in his mouth, curling his tongue around the smooth girth and sucking down, creating a tight vacuum with his mouth. Harry gasped, hips stuttering with tiny thrusts as he tried to control himself. Louis slowly pulled up and then quickly sank back down again, not giving Harry enough time to process the action. Harry couldn't keep track of the stimulation, eyes blurring in and out of focus. Just when he thought he could predict what Louis was going to do next, Louis changed the tempo or the position, until Harry was a whining mess beneath him. When Harry couldn't take the teasing anymore, his hand snapped out to tangle in Louis' hair, fingers threading through the strands and tugging. Louis' eyes shone up at him, cat like and feigning innocence, and the sight made Harry breathless.

“Please Louis,” Harry whispered, “I don't want to come like this.”

Louis pulled off then, mouth slack and glistening, eyes wide with wonder. “What do you want then?”

Harry let his fingers trail through the mussed strands of Louis' hair, before falling down to trace the line of his jaw. Harry frowned when he noticed that they were both still fully dressed. This needed to be corrected.

“Take off your clothes,” Harry said, reaching out to tug on the bottom of Louis' t-shirt, “I want to see you. All of you.”

Harry's eyes glinted as Louis smirked and began to take off his t-shirt, slowly peeling off the thin fabric to reveal a tight, toned, tanned torso. Harry covered his eyes with his hand, conveniently leaving wide gaps through his fingers so that he could peek out. Louis laughed, then quickly sat up to unbutton his dark jeans, before casting them to the floor along with his boxers. When Louis was finally naked, Harry removed his hand from his eyes and proceeded to blatantly stare, mouth watering.

“God,” Harry muttered, shaking his head, “you're so...”

“So what?” Louis asked, flicking stray strands of hair from his eyes.

“You just seem different,” Harry said, smiling, “more confident, or something.”

Louis grinned. He felt different, in all honesty. Felt more like himself than he had in years. Felt like the old Louis.

“You did this,” Louis whispered, leaning forward to pull off Harry's jogging bottoms. Harry lay back and let him, bashful smile slinking across his features. Louis kissed down his bare legs as he peeled the fabric away, “you make me feel like myself.”

And it was true. Louis had only felt like a shadow of himself before Harry, living his life like a hermit. Not really living at all, in fact. At that moment, Louis felt Harry's hand on his neck, pulling him up and into a deep, long kiss. It was soft and slow, breaking off into tiny pecks, but it made Louis' heart pound like thunder. He was sure Harry could hear it. As they broke off the kiss, they both pulled back and stared at each other through lowered lids.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispered.

All the blood drained from Louis' face, diverting straight to his dick. How could one man be so soft and sweet one minute, then the embodiment of all Louis' sexual fantasies the next?

Still, Louis didn't need to be asked twice. “You asked for it.”

Before Harry could protest, Louis quickly grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, long legs kicking out in protest as he laughed maniacally.

“Lou- _is_!” Harry cried, “This isn't fair, how are you so strong?”

“You know what they say, Harold,” Louis said, walking down Harry's hallways and opening every door in the search for Harry's bedroom, “big things come in small packages.”

“My bedroom is at the end of the hall, you idiot!” Harry cackled.

Finally, Louis found the room he was looking for. Harry's room was, not surprisingly, decorated like a gypsy caravan. Coloured scarves and bizarre, modern paintings hung from the wall, along with some very beautiful black and white pictures of Harry's friends, which Louis wondered if Harry took himself, considering there was a camera sitting on the wooden dresser at the side of the room. Still, Louis had no time to think about that as he threw Harry down on the purple bedspread, his long body bouncing on the springs of the mattress.

Louis crawled across the bed and hovered over Harry, smiling down at his giggling face.

“Sure you're all right after that?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you are thirty after all. I wouldn't blame you if you needed a minute to rest your back.”

Louis growled and grabbed Harry's wrists, pinning them above his head.

The smile immediately dropped from Harry's face and his eyes turned dark, body tense underneath Louis' touch. Louis couldn't help from smirking in triumph. “ _Oh_...”

Harry bit his lip and closed his eyes, hips rocking against Louis as Louis straddled him, still-hard dick desperate for attention. Louis released Harry's wrists for long enough to remove Harry's t-shirt, then immediately restrained him again. “You like this?”

Harry nodded, barely able to form words.

“Do you want me to take you like this?” Louis said, leaning down to take Harry's mouth in his.

When he pulled back, Harry was staring at him like Louis had hung the moon and stars.

“Maybe next time,” Harry whispered, pulling his hands from Louis' restraint and curling them around his waist, pulling their hips together, “right now I just want you.”

Louis' throat felt thick as he slowly nodded.

They began to kiss again, Louis' hand tentatively wandering down Harry's back until he reached the cleft between his cheeks, index finger dancing along the seam. When Louis was sure he had permission, he pressed his finger against the tight muscle, teasing it with dry rubs. Harry moaned and reached back to pull Louis' hand away from his hole and up to his mouth, sucking his index and middle finger down, swirling his tongue around them in a way that Louis had only ever seen done in explicit porn. When Harry dislodged his mouth from Louis' fingers, Louis could barely remember what he was doing. In fact, Harry had to remind him by groaning softly in his ear,

“Are you going to use those or do I have to do it myself?”

Louis gasped and immediately reached behind Harry to position his fingers back at Harry's entrance. This time the movements were slick and smooth, barely any friction as Louis' drenched fingers teased Harry open, until finally he breached the tight ring with the tip of one finger.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Harry hissed.

Louis eased in until it reached his knuckle, the slowly inserted a second, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Harry's face for the tiniest trace of discomfort. Harry swallowed and closed his eyes tight, then reopened them to focus on Louis. They watched each other as Louis inserted the tip of a third finger. Harry's eyes were lust-blown as he shifted his body back, urging Louis' fingers deeper. With that, Louis moved down the length of Harry's body to take him into his mouth once again, surprising Harry as he let out a loud moan. Louis' fingers and mouth worked in unison, teasing him until Harry was almost crazy with the mix of sensations.

“Louis, I'm going-” Harry trailed off, breaths short and sharp as he tried to keep control, “Please, Louis, I'm ready.”

Louis pulled his mouth and fingers from Harry, frantically reaching over into the bedside drawers to search for a condom. Harry turned over onto his side to help, movements quick and agitated as he pulled open the second drawer to fish out a foiled packet and a pink tube of lube.

Harry tossed the items at Louis and lay back at the bed, blinking up at him with wide eyes. Louis tore open the packet with his teeth and rolled it on, opening the bottle of lube and letting dollops of cool gel run over his fingertips. Harry's eyes tracked the motion, dark and blown. Louis' own neglected cock quivered at the sight. He swallowed and moved over to Harry, positioning himself on top of him. Harry reacted by spreading his legs and wrapping them around Louis' waist, pressing his heels into Louis' back to bring him closer.

Louis licked his lips and reached down between their bodies to coat his dick with lube, then allowed his hand to venture underneath Harry's balls to coat his hole with thick coats of gel. He smoothed his fingers down, pushing in a little and scissoring, making sure Harry was properly prepared. When Harry dug his heels deeper into Louis' back, Louis removed his fingers and positioned the tip of his dick against Harry's entrance. Then, with one deep breath, he pushed in.

It felt like all the breath had been punched out of Louis' lungs at once. Harry's heat enveloped him, consuming him from the inside out, and his skin pricked with sweat and nerves as Harry gently rocked against him. They stayed like that for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes, the full length of Louis inside of Harry. Harry peered up at Louis with a small smile, curly hair soft and angelic against his cheekbones, highlighted by a streak of light that glinted through the window from outside. Louis became lost in the moment for a while, until Harry eventually grew impatient and began increasing the pace of his movements, hips moving in tiny, frenetic increments.

With that, Louis pulled back and slammed into Harry, causing the younger man to release a guttural cry. Louis leant down and dragged his teeth along Harry's throat, biting gently, sucking purple bruises into the skin. Once again Louis pulled out and pushed back in, maintaining long, deep strokes, increasing the pace until Harry was making choked sounds at the back of his throat.. Harry's short nails scratched down Louis' back as he tried to pull him deeper.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Louis said, “I'm so lucky. So fucking lucky.”

Harry replied by moving his mouth up to catch Louis', running his tongue along the light stubble on Louis' lips as the kiss became unco-ordinated and frantic with the pace of Louis' thrusts. They were both close. Louis could feel his own release building in his hips, muscles contracting.

“I'm close,” Harry said, thighs tightening around Louis as he reached down to take his own dick in his hand.

Louis tilted his hips up, changing position, and that was enough to have Harry crying out as Louis repeatedly collided with that sweet spot inside him. Louis chased the sensation, pounding up into Harry until he eventually felt the hot spurts of Harry's release against his chest. Harry sagged down into the mattress, body relaxing as Louis continued to rock into him. It was only a matter of seconds before Louis followed, body spasming as he came.

It was probably one of the most intense orgasms he had ever had.

When Louis pulled out and removed the condom, tying it up and tossing it into the tiny wastepaper basket that Harry kept beside his vanity table, Louis hopped back into bed and pulled Harry's loose, pliant body against his chest. Harry practically purred under the attention as Louis kissed the smooth, pale skin of his shoulder.

“I don't think I've ever had sex like that before in my life,” Harry laughed, slightly giddy in his post-coital bliss, “where the Hell did you get that kind of stamina, old man?”

Louis bit his shoulder, just enough to leave a mark. “I'm not old!”

Harry sighed, too well-fucked to protest. They lay in silence for a few minutes, trying to get their breath back. Louis' fingers explored Harry's body, running up and across the smooth skin of his waist and torso, down the length of his arms. When he reached Harry's hand, Harry spread his fingers, allowing Louis' own to slot in between them. Louis could stay like this, he thought, not knowing when or if he'd ever want to leave.

“I want this,” Louis whispered against the skin of Harry's shoulder blade, kissing the bone.

Harry stilled, “Want what? My shoulder?”

Louis laughed, “No. I want _this.”_ He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him tight against his chest, squeezing gently.

Harry said nothing, then slowly turned around until they were both facing each other. Louis couldn't read Harry's expression in the shadows of the room.

“I mean it,” Louis said, kissing the tip of Harry's nose, “I want you. All of you.”

“You've had all of me,” Harry said, almost shyly as he ducked his head to hide behind a curtain of chocolate curls.

Louis reached out and threaded his fingers through Harry's fringe, pushing the hair back. He would not allow Harry to hide from this.

“What's wrong?” Louis asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said.

Once again, Louis saw that flicker of fear in Harry's eyes. It was the same look he'd recognised in his own gaze for years. That fear of taking a chance on something, when you'd been burnt so badly before. Louis was almost astounded by how similar they were. What were the odds that, out of all the people in the world Louis could have been matched with on that damn show, it turned out to be someone just as scared and broken as he was? There was something beautiful in that, he thought.

“We don't have to talk about this now,” Louis said, watching as Harry let out a tiny sigh of relief, “maybe we should just...get to know each other a bit more. After all, we've only had three dates.”

Of course, Louis knew that those dates combined with all the phone calls, texting and skype conversations they'd had must've equated to far more than three dates, but that wasn't the point. Louis wanted to know _everything_ about Harry. Also, now that they'd opened this whole new level of openness, Louis thought it would be a good idea to have a good, long, honest-to-God talk.

So that's what they did.

Until the early hours of the morning, Harry and Louis talked about anything and everything; from their respective childhoods, to how they both came out, right up until the present day. Harry's room acted as a seashell from the world as they talked, their limbs tangled in the plush, purple sheets as they spilled out the most intimate details of their past.

Louis told Harry all about his life after the divorce; the feelings of hopelessness and pain as he tried to establish who he was without being the other half of a couple. In return, Harry confessed that he hated it when Louis talked about his marriage because it made him ridiculously jealous. Louis had laughed uproariously at the confession, telling Harry he was selfish because Louis was trying to spill his inner-turmoil and Harry was being a possessive little diva. Harry had pouted, feeling genuinely guilty about his own selfishness, which prompted Louis to match Harry's confession with one of his own. He told Harry that he wanted to punch Nick Grimshaw in the face and that he didn't care if he'd been Harry's friend since university, because he was a jealous idiot and Nick didn't know how to keep his hands to himself. Harry, of course, found this delightful.

“I knew you didn't like Nick!” He declared, face dimpled with joy.

“Well I wasn't exactly being subtle about it, love,” Louis said, scrunching his nose as he remembered the fight they'd had about it. Harry touched his hand, silently reassuring him. “Anyone with eyes can see he wants a piece.”

“Yeah, and like I said,” Harry squeezed Louis' fingers, “I'm crazy about someone else, so...”

Louis pointed to himself and mouthed ' _Me_?' with an exaggerated grin. Harry thumped him lightly on the arm with his fist. This quickly escalated into a wrestling match, with Louis throwing himself on top of Harry, straddling his waist and trying to pin him to the mattress. Harry wasn't much competition, considering he was too busy weezing with laughter to put up much of a fight.

“ _Louis Tomlinson wins the WWE championships_!” Louis said, raising his arms in victory. “ _The crowd goes wild_!”

“You're an idiot,” Harry grinned.

“Says the _loser_.”

Harry quickly sat up and pulled Louis down, switching their positions and throwing one leg over Louis' waist to sit on top of him. Louis' whole body stilled as he looked up at Harry's long, bared torso.

“Like what you see?” Harry wiggled his eyebrows.

“No,” Louis turned up his nose in mock indifference.

Harry leaned down until his face was inches from Louis', begging to be noticed. “Now?”

Louis tried to hide his grin in the hollow of his collarbone. “Nope.”

Harry leaned closer, lips just enough for Louis to touch with his own, but not quite filling the distance.

“Now?” Harry's breath was hot and enticing against Louis' mouth.

Fuck, Louis was only human. Slowly, he turned his head and faced Harry's gaze, then bridged the gap between them until their mouths were hot against each other. When he pulled back, Harry was grinning. “I knew you wouldn't be able to resist my charms.”

Louis' mouth twitched upwards. Then, in a serious tone, he replied, “I was always powerless against them.”

Harry shuffled uncomfortably at the words, smiling shyly, barely able to form a response. Louis admired the pink glow that settled around his cheeks. So, Harry could suck on Louis' fingers like a temptress, but one compliment made him blush like a school girl? The man was one beautiful contradiction after another.

“Why does that make you so uncomfortable?” Louis asked, genuinely curious.

“I don't know,” Harry shrugged, “just not used to it, I guess.”

“You should be used to it,” Louis said, suddenly angry with anyone in the world that hadn't showered Harry with compliments, “you should be told every day how lovely you are. I'm ashamed of the entire human race!”

Harry laughed, shaking his head at Louis' dramatics. “It's OK, honestly. The entire human race is fine.”

“You're too kind, Styles. Another one of your many wonderful traits.” Louis was just teasing him now, but it was worth it to see the blush spread from Harry's cheeks down to his neck.

“What about you?” Harry asked, grinning. “Do you get told how wonderful you are on a daily basis?”

Louis scoffed, “ _Hardly_ the same, Curly. You're an angel, I'm just one of the many others on this planet who are not worthy of you.”

Harry frowned, “That's not true at all.”

“Oh come now, Harry,” Louis teased, “I'll need to stick a flag into your curls to stake my claim. As far as I'm concerned everybody is a threat, you're just _that_ irresistable.”

“Hey,” Harry reached out, silencing Louis' secret fears as he dressed them up with humor, “you don't have to worry about that.”

Louis' face dropped and he sighed, turning his hand so that their fingers were linked. “Just like you don't need to worry, because I'm never going to leave you. In case you didn't get the hint from my rant, I think you're pretty great.”

Harry smiled softly, then inhaled a shaky breath.

“Louis...” he said, quietly. “I want this too.”

Louis could hardly process the words that had just fallen from Harry's mouth, continuing to stare at him in disbelief. When he finally pulled himself out of his daze, his pulse quickened. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “i-if you do, obviously.”

“Fuck, of course I do,” Louis whispered, crawling up onto his knees until he was right beside Harry, “you know I do. It's all I've wanted for weeks now.”

“Well then I want it too,” Harry said, nodding his head resolutely, “I want you.”

“I want you, too.”

They both breathed slowly, in and out, then burst into laughter.

“So...that's it then? We're a thing?” Harry asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yeah, we're a thing,” Louis whispered, pressing his lips to Harry's, pulling him down into the pillows and kissing him deeply.

“You ready for round two, old man?” Harry said, slapping Louis' bare ass with the palm of his hand.

“Only if you think you can handle it, whippersnapper.”

As Harry's hand pulled back to slap Louis' cheek one more time, Louis grabbed his wrists and pinned them into the pillows.

-*-

“Guys, it's starting!”

Niall turned up the volume on Louis' television as Louis quickly pulled the warm popcorn from the microwave, pouring it into a glass bowl and returning to his place on the couch between Harry and Liam. As soon as Louis sat down, Liam reached out and tried to take a piece of buttery popcorn, only to have his hand slapped away. When Harry attempted the same, Louis smiled sweetly and held the bowl up to give him better access.

“Hey! How come you didn't slap his hand away?” Liam snapped.

Louis looked at him pointedly, “Do you really need to ask?”

“This favoritism is just plain rude,” Liam pouted, “what happened to bros before beau's?”

Harry chewed on his popcorn, blissfully ignorant to the argument he'd just caused.

“Would you guys shut up? It's starting!” Niall said from his place on the recliner.

“Niall, you've been saying that for five minutes! It's still on the adverts,” Harry said.

“I know, but if you guys don't stop talking now then I'm going to miss the start trying to get you all to shut up!”

Harry turned to Louis and whispered, “Niall's more excited about this than we are.”

Louis laughed, “I think Liam and Zayn are the same. They've been asking me what night it's on for two weeks now, just to make sure they don't miss it.”

“Can you blame us? Not often our friends are on the TV!” Liam said, leaning over to glance at Zayn, who was way at the other end of the sofa. “You're recording this, aren't you Z?”

Zayn nodded, elbowing Harry in the rib as the gangly man shuffled into his space. Harry found it hard to understand boundaries.

“Yeah, and they have us to thank for it,” Niall chirped, then hit the side of his chair as the familiar Channel 4 prelude flashed up on the screen, “It's starting! It's starting!”

They all fell into silence as Fred Sirieix's face filled the screen, talking about how there's no greater feeling in the world to love and to be loved.

“What's he like in real life?” Zayn asked, keeping his voice quiet so as not to annoy Niall.

“Really nice, actually, nice bloke,” Louis said.

Harry nodded, “He smelt nice.”

“You were smelling him?” Louis frowned.

“Jealous?”

“No. Disturbed, mostly.”

“I can't help it if someone's smell invades my nostrils without my permission,” Harry shrugged, grabbing another handful of popcorn from Louis' bowl.

“Are you quite sure it was without your permission?” Louis raised his eyebrows.

“I may have inhaled deeply on a few occasions,” Harry grinned.

“Ha!”

“Oh my GOD, shut up!” Niall snapped.

Louis and Harry giggled, like two children being scolded by their mother. However, when Louis' voice began emanating out from the screen, their heads snapped up.

“It's you!” Niall cackled, pointing at the screen and turning to face Louis. “This is nuts!”

Sure enough, there Louis was. His hair was neat and quiffed, tidier than the slight scruff he was sporting now. On-Screen Louis sat in front of the camera while the narrator introduced him. Only now did it occur to Louis that he was going to be portrayed in a certain way by this programme and he silently sent a prayer to whatever God was up there to make him look good.

“Aw you look so cute,” Harry muttered.

“I look fucking petrified!”

“Yeah, but it's cute.”

The shot quickly changed to footage of Louis sitting at a table, waiting for Harry to arrive. On-Screen Louis' foot was tapping under the table as his fingers danced along the keys of his phone.

“I was texting Zayn there,” Louis nodded, “telling him my date stood me up!”

Zayn laughed, “I remember that!”

“I did not stand you up! I told you I was running late!”

“You made a bad first impression, Styles.”

Louis' voice sounded over the shot of Louis texting, describing what he'd like his date to be like. _Ideally I'd like someone who is not nuts. My type is usually tall, blonde, tanned, but in all honesty as long as they're a laugh, I'm really not fussy._

“Two out of three ain't bad, Hazza,” Niall chuckled, “Tall and a laugh.”

Harry grunted out a a sarcastic laugh, “Very funny.”

Louis poked Harry's cheek, forcing a reluctant smile from him.

At that point, a shot of Harry popped up on screen. Louis was taken slightly off guard by the sight as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Harry was dressed in black, which made the paleness of his face look even more stark. Dark curls pooled down past his cheekbones, and it was only now that Louis had seen Harry's hair in its natural state that he realised that Harry had actually manipulated the curls for their date. He looked polished and put together. Bone-achingly hot.

Despite the fact that Harry was right beside him, Louis was having a slight out-of-body experience, like he was a viewer of the show watching this beautiful man go on a date with someone else.

“Oh my God,” Louis said, “you look hot!”

Harry preened at the compliment, “Stop it.”

“No, honestly, fuck! You're my date. _You're_ my date.”

Louis couldn't help but feel horribly jealous of his past self. He could barely focus on anything but Harry's pink lips as the man on screen described his life, saying he was looking for someone 'nice' with 'a nice smile.' Louis recalled Harry saying the same thing to him while they were on their date.

The shot returned to Louis, who kept looking up from his phone towards the front door. The voiceover announced that Louis' date was running late, and shots of Louis making jokes with the waiting staff were used to fill the space. Harry even snorted out a laugh at one point as Louis blatantly checked out the tall, tanned waiter.

“You told me you didn't notice him!” Harry said.

“I lied, so sue me,” Louis smirked, “I had to look at something before you showed up!”

As if summoned by the words, Harry eventually appeared on screen, walking through the restaurant doors and handing his coat to one of the female attendants. He smiled and whispered something to her, making her stifle a giggle with the back of her hand, nodding politely.

“What did you say to her?” Niall asked.

“I asked her if my date was hot.”

“You did?” Louis' mouth dropped open. “And she said yes! Fucking ace.”

“She was right,” Harry nodded.

“Shhhh!” Niall, “I want to hear you guys meeting!”

They all watched in silence as Harry and Louis laid eyes on each other for the first time. Contrary to what Louis remembered happening (which was himself acting very cool and nonchalant about Harry's hotness) the Louis on screen seemed to react differently, mouth dropping open as he slowly stood up from his seat and greeted On-Screen Harry.

“Smooth, mate,” Liam said.

Louis scoffed, but said nothing. He couldn't even argue. Luckily for him, at that moment, Harry's voice trickled over the scene, drawing attention away from Louis' lack of tact.

 _'When I really like someone, I kind of get really nervous and I frown at everything. It's a really bad habit_ . _I'm usually quite charming, honestly,' Harry laughed, 'but I just can't think of what to say sometimes. It's awkward.'_

Sure enough, on-screen Harry frowned and, after a few minutes of talking, they both lapsed into silence. Niall, Liam and Zayn burst out into simultaneous laughter.

“You guys are pathetic,” Zayn shook his head, fondly.

“We filled out your forms, didn't realize we'd have to go on the date for you too!” Niall cackled, “Useless, both of ya!”

Harry and Louis both smiled at each other as they took the verbal berating. They weren't wrong.

When the adverts came on, Liam followed Zayn out onto the balcony for a cigarette.

“Shit, my arse still hurts from paintball earlier,” Niall said, rubbing the spot, “Liam and Zayn are brutal when they get into teams! Me and Nick didn't stand a chance.”

Harry and Louis said nothing. In truth, they'd both managed to avoid getting hit after taking cover under one of the makeshift hideouts and proceeding to make out for most of the game. When Liam and Zayn finally found them, they'd already teamed up with Niall and Nick in order to defeat Louis and Harry together. In Louis' eyes, the loss was worth it.

At that moment, the door to the balcony flew open and Liam bolted inside, waving his phone in the air as he said, “ _You guys are trending on Twitter_!”

Louis, Harry and Niall paused for a moment, processing the information, before all speaking at once over each other.

“What?”

“Are you _sure_?”

“Let me see that!”

Louis scrambled up and reached out to grab Liam's phone from his outstretched him. His eyes scanned the Twitter feed, which was filled with mentions of Harry and Louis along with a hashtag. Louis squinted and peered up into Harry's round, bewildered eyes.

“Larry Stylinson?” Louis quirked an eyebrow. “What the fuck is a Larry Stylinson?”

“It's a mash-up of your names,” Zayn offered, taking a seat back on the sofa, “cute.”

Harry's loud laugh fell from his mouth and he tried to stifle it with his fist, “We're famous!”

“This is bloody surreal, this is,” Louis muttered, eyes still fixed on the comments people were making about Harry and Louis on the show.

Over his shoulder, Liam began to read them out.

_Harry and Louis are so cute on #FirstDates. Really hope they see each other again! #Larryforever._

_Bets on that Harry and Louis won't even make it to dessert before boning each other. #FirstDates #LarryStylinson._

And, Louis' personal favorite.

_Found a new, healthy way of frying my egg. Just using the sexual heat from Louis and Harry on FirstDates. #LarryStylinson._

The tweet was accompanied by a photo of a fried egg poised on top of someone's Ipad while livestream footage of Harry and Louis on their date played underneath. Louis threw his head back with laughter.

“Why would someone put an egg on top of their Ipad?” Niall shook his head, baffled.

“Probably for the two hundred retweets,” Louis said.

Harry continued to laugh, as if this was all the most amusing thing he'd ever experienced. Louis felt Harry's arms wrap around him, as if suddenly encouraged by all their online support. However, they didn't have enough time to relish their newfound fame, because the adverts had finished and Harry and Louis were back onscreen. Louis was talking about his divorce. A prickle of discomfort trickled up Louis' spine as he watched himself talking about. As he watched On-Screen Harry listening to him, brow furrowed in deep concentration, Louis was taken aback by just how intently Harry had been focusing on him during their date. From a third person perspective, Louis could see how much Harry cared, and the sight almost took his breath away. Then, as quickly as the mood dropped, On-Screen Harry said something to make On-Screen Louis laugh, and the tension was broken.

“God, look at you two,” Niall said, smiling at the screen, “it's sickening.”

Liam nodded, “It's like watching a whole different person. I don't remember Louis smiling like that before the show! Do you Zayn?”

Zayn shook his head. “Didn't know it was possible.”

Louis shrugged, as though to say _It is what it is._

They all sat in silence as On-Screen Louis told On-Screen Harry that he wasn't his usual type. Niall, Liam and Zayn let out a collective groan.

“You did _not_ just say that!” Niall cried.

“ _Louis_!” Zayn and Liam shook their heads, disappointed in their friend. “We raised you better than that, Tommo.”

Louis pressed a hand over his face and sighed, “I know, I know. I regretted it as soon as I said it, trust me.”

“Even the people on Twitter are furious with you,” Niall said, face illuminated by the glow from his phone, “@ _Butterypotato_ says _'How could Louis say Harry isn't his type? He's gorgeous! #LarryStylinson #FirstDateFauxPas'.”_

“Imagine how I felt hearing it!” Harry said.

“Now ' _Oh no Louis!'_ is trending,” Liam said.

“That's so embarrassing! Especially since it's so _obvious_ that you're exactly Harry's type,” Niall cackled, “look at Haz's face, he looks so forlorn!”

Louis hadn't noticed it at the time, but sure enough On-Screen Harry was pouting, eyebrows furrowed with the sting of rejection. Louis turned his head to face Real Life Harry, who was also pouting, and pressed a kiss to his temple. A small smile plucked the corners of Harry's lips. Louis repeated the gesture, trying to get a bigger reaction, and at the last moment Harry turned his face and caught Louis' lips with his own.

When they returned their attention to the show, the camera was following some of the other couples.

“S'weird when the camera flicks to other couples,” Zayn muttered, “feels like the whole show has been about you two.”

Funnily enough, Louis had been thinking the same thing. The camera never left them for long, always filtering in and out of Harry and Louis' conversations.

“You guys make great TV, obviously,” Zayn muttered, “someone on this show certainly thinks so.”

They continued to watch as Harry and Louis laughed and ate dessert, flirting outrageously. Louis blushed while watching On-Screen Harry lean over to wipe away the chocolate from Louis' bottom lip, before bringing it back into his own mouth. Niall gasped,

“ _Har-ry Styles_!

Harry laughed, hiding his face in Louis' shoulder.

“So much for playing it cool,” Niall said, shaking his head.

For ten minutes, the camera followed the other dates on the show, giving them all a chance to chat and catch up on their Twitter feeds. Harry's nose practically touched the screen of his phone as he grinned at all the comments about them, paying particularly close attention to the ones that said they looked hot together.

“Listen to this one,” Louis said, looking down at his own phone, “ ' _If Louis and Harry don't get together I will lose all hope in love_.' People are properly rooting for us.”

“Of course they are, we're adorable,” Harry said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I know, but it's just...not everyone gets a reaction like that, you know?”

Harry looked at Louis, eyes still and focused intensely on him, then he smiled. “I guess we must be pretty special then, huh?”

Louis returned the smile.

When the camera returned to Louis and Harry, Fred Sirieix's voice trickled over the scene.

' _The body language..the touch of a hand…the way people look at each other. It's about that connection, it's about that bond, its about that warmth.'_

On-Screen Louis laughed as Harry reached out to touch his hand, squeezing gently. They smiled at each other.

“ _A date can be a life changing moment, it can change your life forever._ ”

Then, finally, On-Screen Louis appeared on screen, ready to give his verdict on the date. Even Louis felt nervous.

“Do you like him?” A voice off-screen asked.

On-Screen Louis smiled, more prominent on one side of his face than the other, then blushed. “Eh, I think I'll keep that a secret until I talk to him, actually.”

“He totally does,” Niall whispered excitedly, biting his nails.

Harry turned to fix Louis with a raised eyebrow. They both laughed.

When Harry finally entered the room, the tension in Louis' room was palpable.

“Twitter is going crazy!” Liam said. “I have to say I'm nervous, even though I know how this ends.”

In between nervous laughter and rosy cheeks, Harry and Louis finally declared that they would like to have a second date. The whole room let out a cheer at the verdict, Niall, Liam and Zayn clapping their hands and generally behaving like idiots. Even though Louis scowled and pretended to find them embarassing, he loved having such supportive friends.

“ _I guess I'm just always used to being second best_ ,” Harry's voice echoed across the screen, immediately silencing Louis. Louis raised a hand, motioning for the room to quiet down.

“Oh God,” Harry moaned, pressing his fingers to his face, “this is embarrassing. I forgot about this.”

On-Screen Harry was facing the camera. It looked like it had been recorded before the main show, so he wouldn't have met Louis by this point.

“ _I just want someone I can trust. I want someone I can have fun with. I don't want someone perfect, I just want someone who is perfect for me.”_ He shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “ _I don't really know if it's out there, though._ ”

The scene flickered to a shot of Harry and Louis outside, grabbing their taxi. Then, Louis' face appeared on screen, and Louis remembered filming it before he'd met Harry.

“ _I've been through a lot, you know? I want someone I can trust. I've become a bit jaded with love, really. I don't know if happily-ever-after really exists,”_ he said, shaking his head, “ _I'd like to be proved wrong, though._ ”

The camera shifted to Fred Sirieix .

“ _Sometimes it will be hard, sometimes it will hurt and there will be pain...”_

On-Screen Louis leaned over to swipe a strand of hair from Harry's eyes as Harry rested his chin on the opened window of his taxi.

“ _...but when you realize another human being cares for you, the reality shifts completely and you’re entering a different kind of world.”_

As the taxi sped away, Louis' lone figure stared out after Harry's car, a wide smile on his face.

“ _No man is an island. No matter what people think about themselves, how strong they are, how tough they are, everybody needs someone to cuddle with, or to give them that little bit of love._ ”

Louis felt tears pricking his eyes, then the touch of Harry's thumb against his cheek, sweeping them away. When Louis looked up, he noticed the slight mist in Harry's eyes too.

“God damn it,” Louis muttered, “this fucking show.”

“Tell me about it,” Niall said, clearing his own blue orbs, “it'll be the death of me. You two as assholes. Assholes in love.”

The screen faded to black as the show ended. Eventually pictures of the couples began to appear on screen, giving updates on how each pair had progressed since the show. Louis blinked at the familiar face of the man on screen, recognizing him as the Essex man he'd met in the toilet when Harry was paying the bill. The girl he was with looked glamorous, long hair and tanned, with gleaming white teeth. Louis recalled the man telling him that she'd been checking out Harry the whole time. Louis whispered this to Harry, who giggled into the back of his hand.

A caption along the bottom of the screen informed the audience that the couple did not arrange a second date. Louis wasn't surprised.

The next couple arranged one date, then lost contact.

When Harry and Louis finally appeared on screen, their pictures were recent. One shot of them on the beach, another of Harry kissing Louis' cheek and the final one of them on the London Eye. Louis remembered the heated argument he and Harry had had about what pictures to send when the show had contacted them for an update. It was Louis that had decided on two of his favorite photos, both of which now hung proudly on his wall alongside family photographs and some weird pieces of modernist art that Harry had picked for him. Harry had chosen the third photo.

“I can't believe you sent the one of us on the London Eye,” Louis grunted, “The one of us in Paris was so much classier.”

“Yeah, but I told you, I look awful in the Paris ones because-”

“Because you had a stomach bug, I know, I know.”

Harry gave him a chilly look, but said nothing.

Along the bottom of the screen, the caption read:

_Louis and Harry went on another date after the show. They have stayed in contact for five months._

_They are now officially a couple._

Once again, Liam, Niall and Zayn cheered. Louis and Harry exchanged soft looks at each other. They were so completely crazy about each other that it almost made _Louis_ feel sick. The words on screen disappeared, followed by a standalone sentence.

_Louis says that Harry is his type now._

They all laughed.

When the credits rolled, Niall read out all the elated comments from people on Twitter, while Liam and Zayn went into the kitchen to grab a celebratory bottle of champagne. Harry and Louis tried to keep track of their Twitter mentions as they suddenly became inundated with messages.

Larry Stylinson trended for two hours after the show aired, making them one of the most popular couples ever to be on the show.

If anyone had told Louis two years ago that this is what his life would be, he never would have believed them. Still, looking over at Harry's beaming face as he read out all the 'Larry Stylinson' twitter mentions, Louis had never been so happy to be proved wrong.

_"I've been a maitre d' all over the world, in Bordeaux, in Paris, in Monte Carlo, in America. People want the same thing. They want a relationship and they want to be loved."_


End file.
